


In Another World?

by Yeahyouwish



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Attempted Murder, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Bed-Wetting, Big Bang Challenge, Bottom Hannibal Lecter, Cannibalism, Cannibalism Puns, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Consensual Kink, Consensual Non-Consent, Consensual Somnophilia, Dark Will Graham, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drugged Sex, Eventual Happy Ending, HYDRA Trash Party, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Happy Murder Family, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mild Gore, Minor Canonical Character(s), Minor Character Death, Minor Character(s), Murder, Murder Family, Murder Husbands, Oral Sex, Rape Roleplay, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Body Play, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Somnophilia, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Top Will Graham, Unsafe Sex, Watersports, forced bed wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:13:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 52,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24454240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeahyouwish/pseuds/Yeahyouwish
Summary: Someone said I tagged this way too hardcore- prob because I'm used to fandoms with a lot of kids in them. Tagged rape for safety, but still very violent sex. Season 2 AU, happyish ending? Still do mind the tags somewhat. Starts at about the time Will’s in prison and develops (mostly slowly) away from the plot of the source material. Canon-typical violence, but more sexual.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 13
Kudos: 84
Collections: 2020 Eat The Rude Big Bang





	1. Leda and the Swan

**Author's Note:**

> Do not repost or copy any part of this fanfiction to other sites!

Hannibal sighed softly as he laid out a fish and began to gut it expertly. The softly rising sounds of Allegro con brio served as a perfectly timed soundtrack to the act of preparation, but his mind was not on his work as it usually was. 

His ear was not following the arches and dips of instruments, but lending itself to a memory of Will's soft, broken voice from inside his office. His palate not imagining the flavour of spices he mixed with the flesh of Turbot, but taste of Will's shoulder spread out under his tongue, not cooked, but savoured in a different, more intimate way. His keen nose ignored the scent of brine, instead obsessing with the completely surprisingly delightful mixture of cheap cologne, dog fur, and encephalitis. An interesting mixture, to be sure, but Hannibal was nearly shocked at the intensity of his emotions about it. Perhaps it was not the scent itself- surely Will would benefit from some Caron Poivre- but the aspect of it being Will's scent, and no one else's.

Lost in such memory and fantasy, his practiced hands had continued with their task unhindered by his lack of concentration, but his ears and nose had ignored the obvious signs of intrusion. Thus it was with surprise that he first heard the click of a firearm in his ear, and realized with a start that his nose had not at all imagined the scent of Will in his house. The music dipped conveniently as Hannibal greeted Will, looking still at his dish, where his hands had stilled. "Hello, Will."

He chanced to look to the side, slowly so as to show Will that he meant to do nothing about the gun pointed directly at his temple, though Will was so close it would be child's play to disarm him, even with hands slippery with fish gut and oil. Will was there, indeed. He was dressed still in a grey suit from the mental hospital. He said nothing at first, but measured Hannibal's calm expression with his eyes. At last, with what seemed like enormous effort, Will, rather hatefully, said, "Dr. Lecter."

With that, words seemed to flow more freely. "Turn off the music." Will said, and the command in his voice seemed to crawl down Hannibal's spine and into his very being. Was he about to see what Will Graham could be?

"Permit me to wash off my hands?" Hannibal requested. Will nodded once toward the sink in permission, so Hannibal turned and washed his hands thoroughly with soap in the kitchen basin. He dried them, still calm, too calm for Will's tastes, and walked slowly to the phonograph, where he reached out one hand and lifted the arm. The music ceased and he faced Will. "It is good to see you. How are you feeling?"

"Don't patronise me, Dr. Lecter." Will spat, his gun still trained on Hannibal, though some distance away now.

"It was not my intention."

"And what -was- .... your intention?" Will paused. "To let me rot in prison, in your place?"

"My place?"

"Don't play games with me." Will replied dangerously. "I remembered what you did. You made me - you forced me to- " But Will seemed unable or unwilling to finish the sentence. He paused for a long time, then said, "Go to the bedroom."

Hannibal nodded. "May I ask that you put down the gun, Will? I'm willing to talk-"

"Go. To. The. Bedroom."

Hannibal didn't push the subject. He crossed the kitchen floor and left the room, headed for his own, and Will followed him, almost stalking, so quietly that Hannibal couldn't hear, though he was listening for his footsteps. Hannibal turned as soon as he had stepped foot in the room.

"Pick up the phone." Will commanded, and Hannibal went to the in-table to lift the receiver. "You're going to call Jack Crawford and tell him that you are going on vacation, I don't care where, make it believable."

"The gun isn't necessary, Will."

"I'll decide what's necessary if you don't mind, Dr. Lecter." Hannibal nodded again, then dialled Jack's number, noting that Will followed his movements. There would be no changing the number, no calling for help. Clever, very clever. "Speaker." Will whispered as the other side rang.

"Hello, Jack, it's Hannibal."

"Oh, hello."

"I'm sorry for calling so late, but I'm afraid international calling is terribly expensive."

"International? Are you going abroad?"

"I am. I thought I should let you know, considering you've been employing me in Will Graham's place."

"I appreciate that."

"I must leave at once as this is a family emergency, and I can't be sure of my date of return."

"I understand."

"Again, I'm sorry for calling so late."

"It's no problem, Dr. Lecter. I hope everything is alright at home."

"Thank you. Goodnight." Hannibal hung up.

"Call Alana." Will said immediately.

"Of course." Hannibal replied quietly. He repeated the process to Will's satisfaction and hung up. There was silence between them for a few seconds. Finally, Will spoke again. 

"Strip."

"Excuse me?" Hannibal asked, not incredulously. He was sure he must have misheard and the question was sincere.

"I said, 'strip.'"

"You wish for me to remove my clothing?"

"Is something unclear?" Will retaliated sarcastically.

As Hannibal removed his apron, Will crossed to the wall and pulled the phone's cord unceremoniously from it, rendering it useless for sure. He had already taken Hannibal's cell phone, which had unwisely been left on the counter, too far from himself to use it as a call for help. Will figured that Hannibal must feel very safe here. Very secure. He was about to rectify that.

Will went back to the door and disappeared for a few seconds, returning with a small duffle as Hannibal took off his shirt. He dropped the duffle on the floor and dug around in it, removing a length of rope and a knife. 

When Will looked up, the first thing he noticed was Hannibal's almost hard cock.

Still, Hannibal said, "I wish you wouldn't do this, Will. It's indecent in the extreme."

"You know what's indecent?" Will asked, pushing the erection from his mind- it could have been caused by anything, even fear- "Is forcing someone to eat another person. That's indecency, Dr. Lecter. This- this is... revenge. Get on the bed." Hannibal obeyed again, sitting and then laying down with great dignity. Will threw the rope at him. "Tie your legs, spread apart, to the baseboard."

Hannibal tied one leg, let Will cut the rope and check that it was secure, then tied the other with some difficulty. Will cut it again, this time tightening it significantly, his gun resting far out of reach should Hannibal try for it. "Lay down." He ordered, and Hannibal did so.

Will took his right arm first and tied it up to the headboard, surprised every second that Hannibal remained calm and still. Then did the left. "You seem apathetic to all this."

"I'm curious as to what you intend to do."

"What if I intend to kill you?"

"Then that is what will occur. I would only ask that you do not use a gun to do it."

"Would you prefer I stab you?" Will asked sarcastically, holding up the knife.

"How do you want to do it?"

Will paused for a moment, then scoffed. "I'm not going to kill you." He whispered.

"I didn't think that you would. Not yet." Hannibal replied.

"I'm going to do worse."

"Then I'm curious to see what you deem as worse than death."

"You can't imagine anything worse than death?"

"I certainly can. I can imagine many things. But those things might be different for you and I. What do you feel, Will? That is more important that what I feel in this moment."

"I disagree." Will said. "What you feel ... is very... important to me."

"Then you must determine what I feel is worse than death. You must determine... what I fear." There was a longer silence this time.

Then Will said, "Pull." Hannibal pulled with all his strength on his bindings, his face contorting with effort, until Will said, "I think that will do."

Hannibal looked at Will as he stripped off the top of the jumpsuit, pulling it down to release his own erection, which Hannibal had noticed growing as Will exerted this power over him. Will left the undershirt on, himself almost completely clothed. Hannibal felt the bed dip between his legs as Will rested there, a bottle from the duffle bag in his hands. "I want you to know that I'm only using this to make it easier for myself." Will said, holding up the bottle.

"I would imagine so." Hannibal said indifferently.

"You know what I'm going to do." Will accused.

"Again, I can imagine. But I do not think it will produce the result that you hope for, and I can not say I know why, exactly."

Will's expression contorted from controlled to wounded. "You ...violated me."

"In what way?"

"Don't pretend with me. You forced me to swallow Abigal's ear... you killed and ate them... you made me eat them." Hannibal sighed, but before he could protest, Will said, "No, no... don't deny it. If you're going to deny it, don't say anything. Don't lie. Don't lie to me." Will popped the top of the bottle and spread the lube on his dick with his other hand. "Now, I'm going to violate you, Dr. Lecter."

"No. You aren't." Hannibal replied quite simply. 

Will chuckled darkly. "You think I won't do it?" He spread some lube on the entrance to Hannibal's ass, putting two fingers inside as well briefly, but clearly with cool indifference.

"I think you want to, but I don't think you can." Hannibal said.

"Watch me." Will pushed inside without further warning, feeling Hannibal close around him, tight and unpliable. Hannibal's expression changed briefly to one of pain, but there was something else there, too. Will pushed in further, enjoying the feeling, the moan of pain from Hannibal, the power of the act. Then he pulled out and began to thrust into the tight heat below him, resting his arms under Hannibal's, pushing his up into a position that was more or less uncomfortable for him, but easy access for Will to rest on his elbows.

Hannibal contracted around Will, pulling at his bonds in an attempt to wrap his arms around him, pull him closer for the taking. His toes curled and there- just beneath the pain of the penetration- something else did, too. There was no fear, no loss, no disgust. There was pain, of course, but there was also adoration, and longing, and want. His want for Will.

But Will seemed to sense none of this, so enveloped with his own rage and pleasure he was. He thrust harder and harder, groaning in short bursts, his brow furrowed and his eyes shut tight, trying to keep himself from spilling his seed before the punishment was had.

But Hannibal felt no punishment from this, despite the pain. He watched Will bobbing back and forth, sweat pooling on his brow and, when he raked his eyes downward to watch Will's movement, his chest. So much beauty for his eyes to behold in Will's powerful thrusts. He wanted Will to open his eyes, see that Hannibal was gazing at him with sensual need and openness, but he said nothing. If he tried to engage with Will, he would almost surely stop, nonplussed by the active consent Hannibal was giving to his so-called violation.

But Hannibal couldn't remain indifferent to Will's repeated assaults for long. Soon he was shutting his eyes in pleasure, the passion taking over the blood and soreness. He began to moan and fight his bonds, eager, desperate, to reciprocate, but he was, of course, at Will's mercy. He could no more grasp Will's bulging, sweet-slicked arms to feel the flesh there as he could force Will to lay over and be ravaged himself. 

And Hannibal was close.

Despite the lack of preparation, Will's length was easily stroking his prostrate with force- a perfect fit for his insides. Even still, Will was closer, and as he came in long, hot spurts, Hannibal could not contain the loud moan of pleasure he gave at Will's release. Soaked in endorphins, it took Will a few seconds to realize the pure sexuality of what he had heard, but when he had, his eyes snapped open and he looked at Hannibal with confusion.

Hannibal's eyes were closed and his mouth was open, panting, his head thrown back into the pillow below him. Will realized in a split second that Hannibal's struggling was to force Will to thrust more, not to stop him, and, shocked by the sudden need in this display, Will pulled out too quickly, hurting himself in the process.

"Ah!" He gasped, taking his cock in one hand to help ease the pain. Hannibal looked back down at Will, seated between Hannibal's legs, and gave him a rare smile.

"I tried to warn you, Will. You must find what I fear, what I deem worse than death. That... was certainly not it." Will stared at Hannibal for a second, trying to understand what had happened.

“I… was so rough.”

“I don’t mind that, so much. I think I would appreciate some gentleness, but it’s becoming on you.” Hannibal complimented.

Will breathed in deeply, thinking. Then, without saying anything else, he got up. Will went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, tending to himself until he thought he was ready at least to face Hannibal. He towelled off briefly but didn’t dress. He didn’t want to wear what he had been wearing and thought he might find something in Hannibal’s closet to put on. He didn’t look at Hannibal as he went around the room opening drawers and dressing.

“Are you hungry?” Hannibal asked as if nothing at all had occurred, as if Will had just dropped in for a chat around dinner time.

Oh, how often had he done that? How often had he waited to see Hannibal until he was sure that he would be invited to dine as well? How often had he craved, actually craved, the flesh Hannibal served him?

But Will didn’t answer this time. He finished dressing and left the room, Hannibal laid out, his blood clotting and Will’s semen drying between his thighs.

He finished what Hannibal had been cooking to the best of his ability, seeing as it was clearly fish, with the head still attached. He removed the stuffed pieces, unsure what they really were. Then he paced around the house. He locked the doors and windows, if just to give himself something to do. He poured wine that he didn’t drink. He went through Hannibal’s refrigerator and found several organs which he was sure were human, but he didn’t know what to do with them, so he left them there. Finally, torn as to why he was doing so, Will returned to the room.

Hannibal was awake. He looked at Will when he entered, not guiltily, though Will was sure based on Hannibal’s position that he had been trying to escape. His right wrist was bleeding with the effort. Will smiled at this. Realizing that in the confusion of Hannibal’s reaction, Will had left his gun on the floor, he picked it up and tucked it into the back of the pants he was wearing. “If you liked it so much, why try to escape?”

“Well, I hardly know what you will do next, do I?” Hannibal said with some humor in his expression and voice.

“You don’t seem particularly bothered by my desire to kill you… or to rape you…”

“As I said, there certainly are things I fear you will do, Will. You just haven’t thought to do them.” Will’s eyes looked down, but his mind was clearly focused on the problem. After a long pause, Hannibal spoke again. “Did you eat?” Will looked at him. “You look tired.” Will said nothing. “Perhaps I can cook for us.”

“You really think I’d let you cook with what’s in your fridge?”

“If you are concerned for the quality, I have portions of animals that are very clearly what I say they are.”

“I ate.”

“A pity. I was looking forward to tasting the fish.”

“You’re not eating.”

“I had not expected to.”

Will didn’t reply to this. Instead he took the gun from his pants and calmly put it in the first drawer of the dresser, then laid down on top of Hannibal, clothes on. Hannibal said nothing.

“Did you dislocate your thumb?”

“Yes, but it appears your knots are too tight.”

“I tied them that way.”

Nothing was said for some time, then, as Will’s breathing deepened and steadied, Hannibal said, “Will?” Nothing. Quietly, he tried again. Then louder. When he was sure Will was asleep, he shut his eyes and let himself drift off as well.


	2. The Flaying of Marsyas

“Good morning.” Hannibal said as Will began to stir, sighing gently. Will pushed up slightly, his eyelashes fluttering sleepiness from his eyes. Hannibal admired them. 

Will said nothing. He hadn’t expected to sleep through the night. He got up slowly and began to look through the drawers for new underwear, shirts… intending to take them into the shower so as to avoid the gaze of Hannibal. He already felt like he was undressing. He took the gun out of the drawer.

Hannibal watched him go around the room for a while, enjoying the sight of dishevelment that was so very Will, though not at all neat. He was, indeed, undressing him with his eyes, imagining scenes of the night before and wondering if Will would sleep with him nightly unless he was captured. 

Will stopped rummaging at last, holding several clothing items. “Underwear.” He said simply. 

“There isn’t any.” Hannibal replied. Will glanced at the pile on the floor from the night before for confirmation, and then into the laundry basket nearby. No, there wasn’t any. He dropped the subject. “I suppose I should call today’s appointments, shouldn’t I, Dr. Lecter?” 

“I would really rather do that myself, Will.” Hannibal replied.

“Oh no, don’t worry. I’ll call.” Will said sarcastically.

“I would very much prefer to cancel the appointments myself.” Hannibal said again, his voice still mild. 

“You are not getting anywhere near… a phone… that works.” Will said dangerously, quietly. 

Hannibal paused for a second, but decided not to pursue the matter, as Will was about to go into the shower and there was a more pressing need. “May I go to the bathroom?” He asked, as politely as you please. 

“Mm.” Will nodded and, putting the gun in his back pocket for now, started to untie Hannibal’s left wrist. He stopped suddenly. Hannibal glanced at him to see what he had paused for, and saw only a maniacal smile spreading on Will’s lips, giving a mad glint to his eyes.

“Ooh.. things you fear.” He whispered in realization. “I’m sorry?” Hannibal asked politely. 

“No, Dr. Lecter, you may not… go to the bathroom.” Will said, quickly and confidently reversing his work.

“Will, don't be crass.” Hannibal scolded as if he were telling Will the forecast.

“Surely, someone as clean and well kept as you would despise the idea of soiling the sheets where you lay.” 

“Will, please-“ 

“Oh no. No, no, no, no, no … you are not getting anything that you want.” 

“This is below you, Will.” 

“Hmph. Okay. Okay.” Will said noncommittally. Then, with a steel edge to his voice, “You can have water. No food, no bathroom…” and, so low that Hannibal could hardly hear him, “water.” 

“Will.” Will ignored Hannibal, turning to leave for the bathroom. “Will-“ But Will had closed the door and turned on the water. 

Will took a long shower again, enjoying the sheer amount of water a free man was allowed to have, the amount of privacy. Over a week and a half of bathing in lukewarm, trickling water that left his skin so dry it peeled while a guard watched him from an open hallway had left him feeling almost as exposed against the world at large as he felt with Hannibal. 

Fully dressed, Will came out into the bedroom, only to immediately leave again through the other door, into the hallway. He gave a broad grin to his own action of ignoring Hannibal calling his name. Without breakfast, he crossed to the adjacent building, using the keys he had taken from the foyer, and into Hannibal’s office. It was still early. Perhaps his first patient had just woken up and was getting ready to attend their therapy session. Will took out Hannibal’s appointment book and dialled the number. 

“Hello, is Claire Live there?” 

“This is she.” 

“Hello, Ms. Live, this is Joe Lass. I’m calling on behalf of Dr. Hannibal Lecter. He’s had a family emergency and boarded a flight last night. I’m sorry, but we’ll have to cancel your appointment for today.” 

“Oh no, is Dr. Lecter alright?” 

“He’s doing fine, thank you. He asked me to apologise for canceling so suddenly.” 

“Not at all!” 

“If you could call back in two weeks, Dr. Lecter will be able to make a new appointment with you. Sorry for the inconvenience.” 

“No, no, thank you.” 

They hung up almost simultaneously. Will smiled. This was child’s play. Thirty calls… no one questioned Will’s involvement. No one asked further who he was. He went back to the house in high spirits, where he opened the door to Hannibal’s bedroom, gun out, to check on him. 

Clearly he was interrupting. Hannibal was mid-struggle when he paused to look at Will. Saying nothing, he continued. He must have been at it for a while, because he was visibly bleeding at every wrist and ankle with the effort. 

“Hungry?” Will asked, stowing the gun away.

Hannibal paused again. “This is nonsense. Base inhumanity.” 

Will laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Base inhumanity? You know what’s base inhumanity? Forcing someone to cannibalise your victims!” 

“I have done nothing-”

Without warning, Will picked up a glass figure from the top of the dresser and threw it at Hannibal. It struck the headboard just above Hannibal’s hair and shattered into a thousand pieces, spraying Hannibal in glass shards even as he turned his face away. Hannibal fell silent for a minute as Will tried to gather himself, gauging Will’s distress by his breathing and his voice.

“You… you stuck!” He paused, placing a hand on the doorway. Hannibal looked at him again, trying not to spill shards of tempered glass into his eyes from his eyelashes. “You put… a tube down my throat! You shoved- you!” 

“Will,” Hannibal said calmly, trying to ignore the rising fear in his own stomach, unsure what punishment Will might resort to next, “your mind is damaged by your condition. You’re loosing time, you’re confused.” 

“No… no….” Will said in a broken voice, then, much stronger, “I am clearer now than ever before.”   
“Says the madman when his sanity is questioned.” 

“No…” Will said weakly, “No… I know. I know…What’s real.” Will lunged again, emptying the top of the dresser of it’s ornaments. “I know what’s real.” He mumbled as half of them fell. This seemed to compound his stress, causing him to break several more as Will grabbed two from the dresser. “I know.. I know… you did this-” He threw the two he had at Hannibal’s head, missing again. These sturdier pieces broke in larger bits, scraping Hannibal’s cheeks and forehead as they fell. “I know what’s real!” He grabbed another, the last, and this time struck home. 

Seeing the figurine finally hit its target seemed to calm Will in a way that Hannibal’s words had failed.

Hannibal had closed his eyes again to the barrage but, as soon as Will had finished, Hannibal looked at his figure framed in the doorway, panting hard. “You need to believe this, I know.” He said quietly. 

Will cocked the gun as he took it out, stepping forward so it was directly in Hannibal’s face. He felt a sudden surge of pure satisfaction when Hannibal turned his head, eyes closed. It was enough to clear his head. He couldn’t kill Hannibal, not yet. Not before he saw him humiliated and damaged beyond repair. Not until he watched him suffer. 

He lifted the gun and stepped back, holding the hammer so he could release the pressure. Hannibal looked back at him. “Will, the restroom. Please.” 

Will didn’t smile this time. He turned and left, shutting the door on Hannibal, who was now bleeding from several spots, heavy frames and decorative pieces spread over his prone body. 

Will lingered in the kitchen for a long time before he made something to eat. He settled on eggs and bread with vegetables- balanced, but clearly what they were. He would have to get something to eat eventually. He drank down three glasses of water at once as he tried to collect himself. 

He wasn’t loosing time anymore. He wasn’t having seizures. He wasn’t hallucinating. Encephalitis was treatable- they were treating it- he was getting better. He had to remember that. Of course Hannibal would try to protect his secret even under immense pressure, but Will had to break him somehow. 

He spent nearly an hour starting at the wall in Hannibal’s living room. When he felt ready, he returned to the room and cracked the door open. Hannibal had stopped struggling. Either the glass or his bladder, Will wasn’t sure. He looked at Will evenly for a second, then said quietly. “Please. I must use the restroom.” 

“Piss yourself, then.” Will mumbled. He took a few of the larger pieces of glass and figurines and dumped them carelessly on the floor. One of them shattered further. 

“I can’t do that, Will.” 

“You will. Eventually.” Will said carelessly. “Are you thirsty?” 

“Please.” 

“Beg me.” There was a short pause and Will scoffed. “You can’t even do it, can you?” 

“I’ve done nothing wrong.” 

“Beg me anyway.” 

“Will that satisfy you?” 

“It might.” 

Hannibal sighed gently, not an ounce of drama given to it. He settled slightly into the blankets, preparing himself for humiliation, if only to save himself from a greater shame. “Please, please… I must go.” 

“Not good enough.” 

“I beg of you, Will, let me use the restroom. I can not… please don’t force me to…” 

“To what?” Will prompted, cutting him off. 

“…To soil myself.” Hannibal whispered, and Will had a momentary surge of that same satisfaction as when he saw Hannibal’s look of pure disgust. So practiced a blank face, but this idea was clearly enough to turn Hannibal’s stomach. Will’s anticipation of that act rose still higher. 

Will leaned forward, whispering, “I wonder just how badly you need to go.” He reached out a hand and saw Hannibal close his expression down as he placed it over Hannibal’s bladder. “Let’s find out, shall we?” 

“Will, no- no!” But Will was already pushing down, leaning his weight into Hannibal’s naked flesh. He heard Hannibal gasp, the panic from his words still in his voice, and Will shut his eyes to the pleasure of it. He opened them again to see Hannibal’s every muscle tensing as he froze, his full attention on preventing himself from letting go then and there. His face was twisted with pain and revulsion, not at all like the clear facade he so often presented to the world, and to Will. 

To his surprise, Will felt his own cock stirring, getting stiff beneath the soft fabric of Hannibal’s slacks, and clear as day a sudden thought passed through his head, turning him on further still: he could ruin Hannibal’s clothing with his seed. 

Hannibal screamed once and Will’s cock twitched, growing harder still. He pushed down harder to elicit the same response, and got a tortured groan from Hannibal, which again made Will strain against the cloth. Further again, but this time Hannibal maintained his composure. Will released the pressure from his bladder and was blessed with a sob of relief that was clearly accidental. Hannibal’s composure was cracking. 

“You’re sick.” Hannibal said, his voice rough with effort. 

“You’re sick, Dr. Lecter.” 

“Think about what you’re saying, what you’re doing. You’re experiencing my pain sexually.” Hannibal accused. 

“I guess I am.” Will shrugged. “You didn’t beg me hard enough.” 

“Even if I beg you, you won’t let me go.” 

“I guess we’re both liars, then.” 

Will pressed down again, harder and harder, watching Hannibal’s face twist into grotesque shapes, until he elicited a scream of agony. Will’s pleasure threatened to overcome him for a moment, and he stood panting at the side of the bed. 

“Does the thought of someone loosing control arouse you so much?” Hannibal spat, his voice low and controlled despite the fact that he had been screaming a moment before. 

“If it’s you who’s powerless.” 

“Will, please, no more.” 

Will moaned at this, and palmed his straining erection. “You might get lucky.” He muttered. 

Hannibal grabbed at that like a drowning man would take a rope thrown from a ship. “Please, please… no more… I beg of you, no more.” 

Will doubled over with pleasure, his hands resting on the bed, and Hannibal increased the desperation in his voice. This and only this would save him from humiliation and taint. If he gave Will what he wanted, if he begged until Will came, perhaps he would be too sated and content to continue to torture Hannibal. 

A life-saving thought struck him- something his victims of early days sometimes did when they realized they would die- they would bargain, get specific. He had to engage in this, no matter the degradation, to avoid something far worse. “I can’t hold out any longer.” He admitted, and his skin burned at the very words. Will actually smiled in an odd way, his brow furrowing, as if he was trying to hold out until he could force Hannibal to piss. 

Will reached forward again, and Hannibal stained against the ropes, “Please! Please don’t touch me.” Will hesitated, then placed his hand on Hannibal’s bladder again. “Please have mercy, Will, I’ll do anything you ask.” 

Will stopped this time. He removed his hand. “Admit you forced…” He paused, swallowed. “You forced me… to eat…. Abigail’s ear.” He whispered, and Hannibal could see how much pain it caused him to even utter the words. It had an unfortunate effect for Hannibal: Will was clearly not as close to cumming now than he had been a moment ago. 

“Should I say I am a witch to avoid the pier?” 

“Fine.” Will said, and there was no mercy in his voice, in the action of placing his hand once again on Hannibal’s bladder. 

No, no- Hannibal could not take another ounce of pressure or he would certainly succumb. It was this thought and this thought alone that drove him to it. “I admit it, no, no, please! I admit it.” 

Will hesitated again. He closed his eyes, putting his hand back on the bed, leaning on the frame. 

Hannibal could tell that Will was struggling with a decision. Hannibal had done what was asked, but he hadn’t satisfied Will sexually. The best chance of escape was to do both. 

So he continued to beg. “I admit it, please just don’t force me… don’t force me to do this… please… I will soil myself, please… please, no more, no more.” 

Will opened his eyes and Hannibal saw his pupil’s dilate, but also the realisation in them. Will, clever as he was, had discovered his plan. Would he allow Hannibal to execute it? 

Will reached out again, and Hannibal struggled more fiercely. Certainly it was painful for both limbs and bladder, but nothing would compare to the trauma of Will’s palm pressing down for what would certainly be the last time. Hannibal had but one last hope, and that was that Will would come watching him, and be unable to complete the act. 

And his salvation was at hand. Will’s knees nearly buckled as he came untouched into Hannibal’s briefs. He gasped, his eyes shut, and though Hannibal was infuriated at Will’s behaviour, he could not help but note how intensely beautiful he was as he came. Twice, Will almost fell as his legs gave out beneath him, but with the support of the bed, he was able to remain upright. He stood gasping and convulsing gently for a few moments, and Hannibal grew still, waiting for the decision that would determine his fate. 

Will let the endorphins take over his body completely. He hadn’t cum so hard for a long while, and the lack of control was devastating. Still, he couldn’t help but enjoy such a sensual release. He had never considered himself a sadist, but Hannibal might have changed his mind. As he came down, he opened his eyes and saw that Hannibal was staring at the ceiling, face blank, all concentration on holding the rising flood back. Hannibal had clearly derived very little, if any, pleasure from getting Will off. 

Somehow the thought made Will feel more powerful. His attempt at rape had been so well received, but this time Hannibal had given too much, was in too much pain, was too out of control, to enjoy Will’s release. It was the defiling that Will had craved. 

Will walked calmly to the dresser and took out a new pair of pants, then left the room. 

Hannibal let a small sigh of relief escape him, but not much else, for, from this moment, he must concentrate entirely on maintaining control of his body.


	3. Sesshū Ajikawaguchi Tenpōzan

Will thought for a while about the grocery problem as he looked through the remains of what he couldn’t be sure weren’t Hannibal’s victims. He went through the cabinets as well and managed to cobble something together for dinner. He felt satisfied, though, so far. He had achieved something with Hannibal. His admission needed work, but he’d begged in a way Will knew was real, even if it was a bit overplayed and clearly a manipulation in some ways. He’d truly found something Hannibal wanted to avoid.

He left Hannibal alone for the majority of the day, and when the night came he made sure the lights were shut off. He found a flashlight and used it instead, in case Jack or someone else came by and noticed that Hannibal didn’t appear to be where he’d said he was. 

It was late when he opened Hannibal’s tablet and tried to sign in as a guest, which wasn’t allowed, apparently. He needed a password. What incriminating evidence might Hannibal be hiding there? 

Will was sure that wasn’t it. He wouldn’t leave any trace. But psychopaths were, by nature, paranoid, after all. 

Will popped into the room. Hannibal didn’t look at him, but Will didn’t need his attention for long. “What’s your tablet password?” 

“If you want to know, I would be happy to trade restroom privileges for knowledge.” 

“How about I just press on your bladder until you tell me?” 

“18-5-20-3-5-12-1-8-3-19-9-13.” 

“That’s more like it.” Said Will, committing the number to memory, and he closed the door. 

He used Hannibal’s credit cards to order food via a shopping service to be delivered the next morning. He tried checking social media, but Hannibal didn’t seem to have any. Will had simply been covering his bases, after all. Leaving loose ends was the last thing he needed.

With all of Hannibal’s appointments canceled, all of his connections notified of his absence, and food on the way, Will could begin setting the stage for what he planned to do next. 

He couldn’t kill him. At least, not yet. He would search the house in the morning for evidence, but most of it was probably in the fridge if he could have had it checked in the lab. Torturing Hannibal had it’s appeal, but he needed to clear his name as well. 

In the meantime, he didn’t know what to do about the insatiable ache in his chest. 

Why? 

Why, when Hannibal had killed Abigail? Why, when he had framed Will for his crimes? Why, when he had tricked everyone into eating his victims? Why did Will feel the need to be close? 

He wanted so much to hurt Hannibal, but he also wanted Hannibal’s arms wrapped around him, holding him. He wanted Hannibal to whisper in his ear and give him long, languid kisses. 

Will knew these urges were left from days when Hannibal was his lifeline, his confidant. Days when his sweet dreams of Hannibal’s embrace were a reprieve from constant nightmares. Days when he sat opposite of Hannibal in his office and unloaded the horrors of his experiences while watching the curve of his crossed legs and imaging Hannibal’s skilled hands tracing patterns over Will’s body. 

How to make it stop? 

Will found that having these thoughts alone was enough to drive him to Hannibal’s door. He stood outside for a minute, his hand on the knob. Then he turned it and stepped inside. 

Hannibal was still staring at the ceiling. Will’s heart gave an uncomfortable pang, but he corrected it with a fierce recall of Hannibal forcing an ear down a tube and into his body. 

Hannibal, for his part, ignored Will. Firstly, he was concentrating. Secondly, he was infuriated. He’d seldom known such a rage, and rage was his life. Finally, he didn’t dare say anything to Will in case he decided it was worth punishing Hannibal over. He couldn’t handle any more of what Will had done earlier. 

Nonetheless, he felt a flare of mixed anger and longing as the bed dipped to accommodate Will’s figure. He did nothing, even as Will turned off the flashlight and laid his head gently against Hannibal’s chest. He noted Will’s care not to press anywhere that might cause Hannibal to wet the bed. And as furious as he was with Will, he could understand all of this. 

Naturally, Will would be angry, too. Hannibal had killed Abigail, and he had been feeding Will human flesh, something he knew most would not approve of. He couldn’t feel the same empathy Will felt for others, but it was logical, Will’s anger. What Will was doing was low and base, but Hannibal would’t be able to convince him of that, because Will’s furry was so blinding. 

Perhaps if Hannibal had shown more pain and disgust with Will’s attempt to hurt him, he could have avoided this, but hindsight was always twenty-twenty. There was nothing Hannibal could do now to change the situation but to wait for rescue. It wasn’t ideal, but if he could hold on long enough…

But Will was clever. He would have made sure no one was coming for him, Hannibal thought bitterly. It might be days more before anyone could prove that Will was here. The very laws that had given Hannibal sanctuary were preventing him from being rescued now. 

Hannibal didn’t sleep- he could’t let himself drift off now and loose control, and the pain of holding back helped him not do so. But Will slept, breathing long, deep sighs into Hannibal’s exposed chest, right up until the morning. 

It was the phone ringing that woke Will. It wasn’t loud; the phone line in the room was broken after all. It was just enough sound from the other room to wake Will. He was half-way out of the bed before he realized that he could not answer it. Instead he sat on the side of the bed and looked at the bathroom door for a while, groggy. Finally, he looked back at Hannibal, who’s eyes were shut rather tightly with the grimace that was upon his face. Still, he was clearly awake. His breathing was shallow. 

“Are you thirsty?” Will asked. 

He practically felt Hannibal’s rage wash over him in waves. Will smiled slightly. 

“Dr. Lecter,” He tried, but Hannibal didn’t answer. “Dr. Lecter.” He snapped his fingers in Hannibal’s ear. 

Hannibal mastered the urge to bite them. He was sure that Will would retaliate. 

Will placed his hand on Hannibal’s chest, knowing that no matter how angry he was, he couldn’t move against Will without wetting the bed. He stroked downward, slowly, showing Hannibal clearly where he was going. 

“Don’t.” Hannibal said. 

Will continued downwards and stopped over Hannibal’s bladder, a threat between their skin. 

“Will, please.” Came the desperate whisper. 

“Time to let go.” Will whispered back. 

“Please, no… I will do what you want, please don’t-”

“That isn’t going to work. Not today.” 

Hannibal fell silent, embarrassment burning his cheeks as he felt Will press, slowly, slowly… a tiny bit of pressure at a time. A sob escaped Hannibal’s lips before he shut them tight, refusing to show more weakness than was necessary. 

There was no warning, but Will knew already what would happen. Hannibal’s release started as a trickle, then erupted. He struggled as he wet the bed, piss spilling out everywhere and soiling Hannibal’s thighs. It seeped into the bedspread and Hannibal felt the warmth spread underneath him. He stilled, the damage done. 

There was such relief, but it was coupled with the bitterest disdain he knew he was capable of. He truly felt he could never forgive Will, not for this. Grief and resentment followed close behind, but he refused to succumb to any emotion. He let himself empty completely, but lay still on the bedspread, his face blank. 

It was everything Will had imagined and more. It was as if he’d felt Hannibal pass through all the stages of grief nearly at once, settling quiet bitterly on acceptance, but settling nonetheless. It wasn’t as if he’d had a choice, after all. Will’s morning wood turned stiffer as he felt the power rush through him again, but he didn’t touch himself. He let out a little sigh, as if Hannibal’s release had given him some closure as well, and perhaps it had. 

Then Will got up and took some clothing from the dresser. 

“You appear to have gotten what you wanted.” Hannibal said, and Will could hear cool anger in his voice. Will glanced back at him to give him a smile, his expression smug, then went into the bathroom himself. He shut the door just as Hannibal was saying, “Release me, Will.” 

Will showered and dressed, leaving his clothing in the laundry basket, and ignored Hannibal as he passed through the room to the hall. He spent the early morning searching the house for trap doors and hidden walls, sure that Hannibal’s victims were nearby. It took two rings of the doorbell to shake his concentration on the floor to the door. 

Cautiously, Will approached and peered through the peep hole. It appeared to be his groceries. He unlocked and opened the door slightly. 

“Hello, delivery of groceries for Mr. Lecter.” 

“Yes, thank you.” 

Will took the bags and put them inside the doorway, quickly closing the door and locking it again. He looked out to make sure the man was leaving, which he happily did, his job complete. Will took everything to the kitchen and put it away, trashing any meat that Hannibal already had, along with anything that was already cooked or in the stages of being completed. 

When he finished, he paused in front of the refrigerator door for a long time. It had been two days, and Hannibal hadn’t eaten or drank anything. It would be difficult to get him to do so, even at gunpoint, if Hannibal suspected that Will would let him wet the bed rather than go to the bathroom, but he had to at least drink something. Will glanced at the clock. Eleven thirty. 

He went back to the bedroom with a glass of water to find Hannibal struggling vigorously. He didn’t stop when Will entered. “You should have something to drink.” Will said. 

Hannibal still didn’t answer. Will could see the blood dripping from his raw wrists, ruining the sheets below him. The pain must have been extensive, but he knew Hannibal wouldn’t quit until he was free now that he was sitting in his own piss. The only thing that had kept him from fighting was the threat of soiling his body. 

“Sit still and drink this.” Will said. 

“I will not drink only to expound upon the problem.” Hannibal managed through his struggling. 

“You’re not going to get those ropes off. It’s a loosing battle.” 

“One I must keep fighting.” 

“I know how to tie a knot.” 

Hannibal stopped for a moment, fixing his eyes on Will. “Please stop this, Will. It’s undignified. Let me shower.” 

“Drink this, I’ll think about it.” 

“I refuse.” 

“You’re dehydrated.” 

“I’m laying in filth. Let me shower.” 

Inconveniently, Will felt himself getting turned on by this situation. He set the glass of water on table near Hannibal and tried to get control of himself. “You’re not showering until you drink this.” 

“You’re aroused by the violence of your actions.” 

Will didn’t answer, though his brow twisted into an expression that Hannibal had seen many times, when he was confused and angry. Then he strode from the room, more purposefully than Hannibal would have expected. Hannibal heard him moving things around, like he was searching through drawers, in the living room… walk into the kitchen… run water…he remained still, wondering what Will was planning next. 

Will didn’t leave him in suspense. When he approached Hannibal, he saw that Will had fetched some drugs, a tube similar to that he had used to frame Will, and another glass of water. He set the glass down next to the other one. “This is going to be very uncomfortable, Dr. Lecter.” 

“I expect it will be.” 

“But you can make it better for yourself by telling me which of these you used to help sedate me.” 

“I have never sedated you.” 

Will chuckled darkly. “Then which would you use, if, say, you were going to force feed someone through a tube?” Will held up the various bottles and Hannibal read their labels quickly. 

“The second to the left would be ideal.” Hannibal said, if only because others might be lethal. “But I hope you don’t plan to force feed me, Will.” 

Will smiled at that as he prepped the needle. “I hope for your sake that this one is clean.” 

“I wouldn’t keep a used one.” Hannibal remarked. He made no attempt to stop Will from injecting him. Being sedated would be a welcome distraction from what was occurring, and struggling would bring him nothing but further injury. Will clearly knew enough about the needle to be using it, Hannibal noted as Will prepped him. 

What Hannibal had chosen, unbeknownst to Will, was a mixture for conscious sedation. Hannibal would be awake at least, and aware of what Will was doing to him, but fuzzy and disassociated from reality. It would wear off quickly, and if he was lucky, he could take Will by surprise. He closed his eyes as it took affect. 

What Will did was not unlike what Hannibal had done to Will. 

Using the pillow to prop up his shoulders so his head fell back, Will fit the tube down Hannibal’s throat. Then he took each glass in turn and poured the water directly into Hannibal’s stomach. As he did this, he wondered vaguely if Hannibal had felt this powerful, and if he’d thought the sounds Will made were sensual. Hannibal was choking as if Will had put his cock down his throat too far. 

He removed the tube, then lifted Hannibal’s head and placed the pillow there again. He stroked his hair out of his face and pet his cheek twice, a touch that Hannibal felt was welcomed, then got up to wash the tube. 

This was Will’s second erection to go untouched today. He thought briefly about forcing his cock down Hannibal’s throat. But no, he needed to be alert for this, and preferably not hate himself any more than he already did. 

Will spent the rest of the day and some of the evening searching the house. He found a locked door that he had to force open, which led to frozen storage. Other than what had to be human organs, there was no evidence, but it would be enough if the house was searched. 

He could turn on the light in here, at least. He looked around, then turned to go back upstairs, shutting off the light and turning on the flashlight instead. 

Now that Hannibal had been laying in piss all day, the room smelled distinctly of it. Hannibal was awake, but not as alert, and he had stopped fighting, or perhaps had never resumed after the drugs had taken affect. The first thing he said was, “Please release me. I must shower. You can not keep me like this.” 

“I can do… whatever I want.” 

“Please, I beg of you. The stench…” 

“Your stench, Dr. Lecter.” 

“How can you continue to do this, and think that it is just?” 

“It’s revenge.” 

“It’s sickness.” 

“It’s punishment.” 

“It’s the lashing-out of an unstable mind.” 

“Insulting me gets you nowhere.” 

“You insult yourself.” Hannibal said, “With your behaviour.” 

“You’re not begging very well, are you?” 

“Begging will arouse you.” 

“Do it well enough…” Will strolled to the bedside, hands in his pockets. In the moonlight from the window he looked incredible, but dangerous, just as Hannibal had always known he was. “And I might consider a reprieve.” 

Hannibal took a split second to weigh his options. His dignity was lost- not even a consideration. He had begged before. He had, in fact, lost more dignity from the circumstances than just begging. And there was something else to think of. Soon, very soon, he would need to defecate. Would Will untie him at last? Or would he left Hannibal suffer further humiliation? If Will let him shower, he might allow for a private moment in the toilet. He had to at least try. 

“I will do whatever you want. Please, please… allow me this one thing.” 

“Then tell me why you want it.” Will said casually. 

Hannibal paused, then, selecting his words carefully, replied, “I need to be clean.” 

“Are you dirty?” 

“Please, don’t, Will.” Hannibal said, repulsed by Will’s tactic.

“Are you dirty?” Will repeated.

“I am filthy. Anyone could see.” 

“I want to hear you say it. Say like I said it.” Will said.

“You wish for me to speak like a child. You should examine your actions.” 

“You know why.” Will said. “But if you really are unwilling.” He pointed to the door.

A long pause, then, skin turning bright red, a whisper, “I am dirty.” 

“Hm.” Will grunted, clearly unsatisfied. “Why are you dirty?” 

“Will, don’t do this…” 

“Why?” Will said with more force.

“… I… have soiled myself.” Hannibal saw Will’s lips turn up in a small smile, his eyes alive with power, even in the pour light. 

“Well… unfortunately, I just don’t see a reason I should let you shower. You can sleep here.” He turned to leave. 

“Wait, please. Wait. Will- Will, please don’t force me to defecate here.” The words came out all at once. It was the only way Hannibal could force himself to say them.

Will stopped dead. He turned slowly to face Hannibal, who let the fear overwhelm him just enough- if he could give Will Graham a gift…. 

“Oh.. Ohhhh… is that… is that a tear?” Will mocked. He crossed the room to look at Hannibal’s gift: a single tear falling gently to the pillow. Suddenly he straddled Hannibal’s chest, far up enough that he didn’t have to sit in his mess. He took out his cock. “Is this still… becoming on me?” Will asked. 

The correct answer was, of course, yes, but Hannibal couldn’t bring himself to admit it while covered in his own urine and facing worse yet. He would do whatever Will wanted, and then, perhaps… 

Hannibal turned his head, but Will grabbed his hair and forced him back into place. “Open wide, Dr. Lecter.” 

Hannibal’s head was forced back by Will’s left hand as Will used the right to guide his cock into Hannibal’s mouth. Will let out a lewd sound as it fit right into the back of Hannibal’s throat. Hannibal didn’t choke, no matter how roughly Will was thrusting. He struggled against his bonds, but Will knew it was for show. Still, it didn’t ruin the effect. 

Will shoved his cock down into Hannibal’s willing hole again and again, moaning and thrusting with abandon. Hannibal closed his eyes and focused on the sent of Will’s pubic hair pushed right up against his nose, until Will was cumming, forcing Hannibal to swallow his seed. Hannibal wished that Will had cum on his tongue. He could barely sample his flavour before it was down his throat. 

Will relaxed and Hannibal let him, remaining silent as Will rested on his chest, restricting his breathing. His head was tilted back, clearly enjoying the high of violence and sex. Hannibal left him to it. 

A few minutes passed, and just as it was getting truly difficult to breathe, Will lifted himself off of Hannibal. “Sit tight, Dr. Lecter.” He said in a low voice, and he went into the kitchen. Hannibal allowed himself to hope that Will was going to cut him loose. 

Will returned quickly, and he held a small paring knife close to Hannibal’s face. “I’m going to untie you now. Any sudden moves, I cut your Achilles tendon, and you will never…" Will paused for emphasis, "walk again. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, I understand.” 

“Change the sheets, use the bathroom, shower, dry off, brush your teeth. Nothing else.” 

“As you wish.” 

“And Hannibal… if you decide to fight me… you had better win.”


	4. A Winter’s Tale, Act III, Scene III

Hannibal was still as Will untied him, something Will didn’t trust at all. When he was completely free, Will stepped back, pocketing the knife and pointing the gun at Hannibal instead. Hannibal sat up gingerly. “Bed first. Don’t argue.” 

Slowly Hannibal placed both feet on the floor and stood, his hands up to show he meant no harm. Then he reached down and began to strip the bed, showering the floor opposite the bathroom with glass. “I don’t wish to mix them with the other laundry.” He remarked. 

Will nodded. “Put them in the machine.” 

Hannibal walked through the dark house, Will following with his flashlight pointing at his back, which Hannibal knew meant the gun was pointed there, as well. He put the sheets in the machine and set it to run with soap, then turned and walked back to the room, passing Will so he could follow. He gave Will a warning before he stopped in the hallway to take out new sheets, this time leaving the comforter in the cabinet. 

When this was over, Hannibal thought, he should hide scalpels throughout the house to ensure he was not left weaponless again in his own home. 

“May I flip the mattress? A new one is clearly not an option.” Hannibal said as he re-entered the room. 

“Go ahead.” 

With a little effort, Hannibal flipped the mattress and put the new sheets on. “Thank you.” He said. 

“Get in the shower.” Was the only reply. 

Hannibal went directly there without complaint and turned on the water. “I would like some privacy.” 

Will scoffed. 

“For the toilet. Please.” 

Will opened the drawers one by one and fetched out anything with a blade or point and threw it unceremoniously onto the bedroom floor. Then he backed out. Hannibal closed the door. As Hannibal did his business, Will collected everything and put them in a drawer he had pulled out of the nightstand. He put it in the hall, slightly out of the way. 

He opened the door and stepped back when he heard the toilet flush. Hannibal made no move but to step inside the shower and begin to wash his body and hair. Neither one of them spoke until about five minutes in, when Will said, “Hurry up.” 

Hannibal went for the towel when he stepped out. “May I?” He asked. 

Will nodded and Hannibal towelled off. Remembering Will’s list, he was also allowed to brush his teeth, which he did. “Lay down.” Will said as soon as Hannibal had dried his mouth.

“Will, please do not tie me. My wrists-”

“Don’t fight and it won’t hurt.” 

Hannibal paused, biting back his response- how many times he had heard his patients tell him the words of their abusers or rapists- and obeyed. This wasn’t the time to take the moral high ground. It wouldn’t sit well with Will, and he might not be allowed to use the bathroom again. Will could be dangerous, and as much as that excited Hannibal, Will also had all the power right now. 

Will tied him, the knife in his hands and the gun back in the drawer. He checked the knots and put the knife on the nightstand. “I hope I will be allowed to use the restroom again.” Hannibal remarked. “I fear I have only one more set of sheets for the bed.” 

“You behaved.” Was Will’s answer. 

“May I then have a glass of water?” 

Will picked up the two glasses and went to kitchen to fill them. He drank one and returned the other to Hannibal. “I am hungry as well.” 

“Don’t push your luck.” Will responded. Then he got into bed next to Hannibal and curled up next to him. Exhausted despite his hunger, and not having slept the night before, Hannibal let himself drift off. 

The doorbell woke them both. Hannibal sighed, still groggy, but Will shot up out of bed.

“Are you expecting someone, Doctor Lecter?” 

“I would hardly have an appointment with friends this early in the morning.” Hannibal said, glancing at the clock. 

Will went to the door crouched, avoiding the curtained windows on both sides as not to show his shadow, and peered out of the keyhole. Jack Crawford was standing on the other side. Will backed off slowly and returned to the room, where he took a clean sock from the drawer and stuffed it into Hannibal’s mouth, holding it there. 

Hannibal could guess who had interrupted their sleep. He didn’t struggle, but endured the intrusion, despite that everything was quite soundproof. Even if Hannibal had screamed at the top of his lungs, he doubted Jack would hear him. 

A few minutes passed, Will frozen and listening, then the doorbell rang again. 

They waited. 

Five minutes.

Ten minutes.

Fifteen minutes. 

Will stood, letting go of Hannibal’s sock but not helping to remove it. He crept around the house, starting with the door and checking all the entrances and windows, then he returned to the room, grabbing the tablet from the charger on his way. Hannibal had managed to spit out the sock. “That was most unpleasant.” 

Will didn’t answer. He was typing in the numbers to open the tablet. Hannibal watched him misplace two of the numbers, but said nothing, curious what Will would do. When it was denied, Will tried again with more frustration. He was beginning to panic. It was denied again. 

This time Will was careful, but Hannibal could read in his movements that it was paining him to be so, when internally he was in such distress. There was something beautiful about Will’s chaos in such states. 

The tablet open, Will proceeded to type his name into google. The first page to pop up reported his escape and speculated that he was still in the area. He hadn’t been thorough enough. Will stood and paced the room.

“They will return, this time with a warrant.” Hannibal told him. 

Will paused and looked at him. “Not if you call them.” 

“I am happy to do so, at your request.” 

“Not yet.” Will said, one step ahead. Of course it would look suspicious to do it now. He returned to the tablet and opened the settings, password. Then he turned from Hannibal’s view and changed the password to something more memorable than a seemingly random line of numbers. 

“Perhaps if you let me go, we can disregard this meeting.” Hannibal offered. 

“No! No.” Will snapped, quietly. He was now downloading a video chat service. He went into the living room to get Hannibal’s credit cards and sign up. He paced a little, trying to calm down, and at last he felt good enough to seek out breakfast. 

As he cooked and ate, he thought about the newly arising problems. Obviously Hannibal had to call Jack, which is why he had downloaded a video service. Unfortunately, there wasn’t an excuse for him not to switch to video when Jack inevitably asked. 

Will would have to create a background to disguise the house, let Hannibal dress, make sure his wounds were covered so Jack wouldn’t see his cut face and rope-burned wrists, and even after all that, he had to force Hannibal not to ask for help. Jack would be listening for a code or anything out of place, so holding Hannibal’s veins hostage wouldn’t do. 

The second issue was food. This was Hannibal’s third day without sustenance, and he simply wouldn’t be able to survive if Will didn’t feed him eventually. Already he was looking worn and even a little thin. But Will didn’t want to let Hannibal eat. He loved food, adored it. Even something as simple as a sandwich would be enjoyed, as Hannibal had eaten nothing for days. 

This was easier to solve. Will contemplated a few routes- burning everything and mutilating it, dropping the food down his throat with the tube- and settled on one he found amusing. After he finished eating, he put his plan into motion immediately. 

Signing into the tablet with the new password, he went to the Taco Bell website. He was sorry to see that they didn’t deliver. He checked McDonalds instead, however, the delivery system seemed to be limited to Virginia, which Will was somewhat surprised about. He thought for a moment, and decided on Little Caesar’s, because it had the consistency of cardboard and the flavour of wood smothered in cheese, and the added perk of delivery. Will couldn’t go out to pick something up, after all. 

Will happily typed in Hannibal’s credit card number, but the card was declined. His brow furrowed. He checked the number, and it was fine.

“E-mail.” He mumbled. He went to Hannibal’s email. Nothing was saved to automatically enter into the boxes- another sign of paranoia- but Will knew the address. He used the same password as Hannibal had given him, twice to be sure, but it was incorrect. He returned to the room. “Your email password.” He said. 

“There is confidential information on my email-”

“I don’t… care.” Will interrupted.

“The information does not pertain to me.” 

“Unless you want to spend tomorrow evening replacing the sheets again, I suggest you tell me the password, Dr. Lecter.” Will threatened dangerously. 

“I must protect my clients.” 

“I don’t care about your clients and whatever- issues- they have- give me the password.” 

“I cannot.” 

Will went for the knife. He took Hannibal by the left ankle and held him steady despite his struggles. Hannibal froze when he felt it knick his skin. Any sudden move could be disastrous for him. “I could cripple you for life. Give me the password.” 

Hannibal hesitated. “67914090. I would ask that you avoid mail that is clearly from my patients.” 

“I’m not interested in your patients. But if this isn’t the right password, you can’t imagine what I’ll do to you.” 

“As the stakes are high, I would like you to repeat it back to me.” 

Will complied, and Hannibal nodded once.

Will let go and returned to the email, careful to type in the right numbers; even he knew he was getting reckless with frustration. The page loaded. He clicked on the first email from the bank that he saw, and sure enough, the purchase had been declined. 

“Dear Mr. Lecter,” The email read, “There has been some suspicious activity on your account ending in 6191. Please let us know if you or an authorized user made this purchase. The sooner you let us know, the sooner we can protect your account from unauthorized purchases.”   
Under the body of the mail was a box containing the information, and under Declined Purchase, the Little Caesar’s he was trying to order from. Apparently, it was so out of place for Hannibal, it had been flagged. Will had to chuckle at that. He clicked the button to confirm, and was relieved that he didn’t need to log in. 

Going back to the page, he ordered a second time, and this one went through. With this, Will went to the doorway to gloat. He grinned at Hannibal as he heaved a great sigh. “You’ll be happy to know that your cooperation, no matter how unwillingly given, will result in food.” 

“I must admit that the fact that you intend to feed me surprises me. However, I am not ungrateful.”

“Oh, I think you will be.” 

“You certainly seem confident that I won’t enjoy the experience.” 

“You won’t.” Will reassured him. 

“May I be permitted to use the restroom?” 

“I don’t know, Dr. Lecter… you weren’t very helpful about the email password.” Will teased cruelly. “You didn’t seem to care at all about wetting the bed when I asked you for it.” 

Hannibal contemplated that. “Surely there is something you want from me.” 

“Of course.” Will said. He went to sit on the edge of the bed. “But I can’t exactly trust you to do it. A great way to get to the bathroom would be to… well, get rescued.” 

Hannibal couldn’t argue with that. “Write me a script. If I diverge, you will have a warning that someone is coming for me. Perhaps enough to move me to a secondary location.” 

“Which would be….?” 

“I’m afraid I have no ideas for you.” 

“Are you sure?” Will asked. “Where do you kill them?” 

Hannibal sighed. “You must move past these delusions. They are a part of your illness, Will, but they can be overcome.” 

Will’s face hardened. “No bathroom.” He said, getting up abruptly. 

Will spent some time walking around finding things that Hannibal hadn’t left out that might lend an air of unfamiliarity to the space. Vases in cupboards, pillow cases for the throws that Alana might not have seen before. He took flowers from different vases around the place and in the office and arranged them differently inside the ones he had found. He took the curtains from the dinning room and living room and cut them brutally, layering them to create some that seemed more like a hotel’s. Then he gathered a wine glass and poured something red into it. He mixed several of the spices in the kitchen to create make-shift foundation. 

Finally, Will sat with pen and paper for a while, composing and recomposing things for Hannibal to discuss with Alana Bloom. Jack was out of the question, since he’d gone nosing around that very day. Being an FBI agent gave you a certain paranoia that made coincidences seem unlikely, especially in terms of profilers. 

Plus, Will was sure now that Alana was sleeping with Hannibal. 

How very quickly she had moved on. 

Will didn’t really blame her, but Hannibal… that was another matter. Hannibal, who claimed to desire him. Hannibal, who had nothing like Alana’s excuses of fear for his sanity, being insane himself. Hannibal, who framed him and manipulated him and destroyed his life, then had the nerve to court his friend into bed with him when surely he felt no real attachment to her. 

Hannibal might be more inclined to let Alana know what was going on, seeing as they wee lovers now. Certainly Alana would expect it. 

He jumped when the doorbell rang, and went quietly to the door. He checked not only the peep hole, but the windows as well, but saw no sign that the house was being watched. He opened the door to accept his pizzas. After watching the man leave, Will locked the door again and ate a few slices as he finished writing his script. Will’s palette wasn’t nearly as cultivated as Hannibal’s, and he’d spent the last few weeks in a mental hospital. He wasn’t picky. 

When he opened the door to Hannibal’s room, holding a pizza box with the tablet balanced on top in one hand and a paper in the other, Hannibal first said, “I must request again to use the restroom.” 

Will didn’t respond to that. “Lunch.” He said instead. He put the box on Hannibal’s stomach and opened it. Hannibal stared. 

He looked back up at Will and said, “Thank you. May I use the restroom?” 

“Are you planning on…” Will said slowly, then at a faster pace, “annoying me into letting you go?”

“Naturally, I hope that you will see reason.” 

“Food, phone call, and then… if you deserve it- bathroom.” 

“Very well.” 

“Say ‘ah.’” Will picked up a slice and maneuvered it into Hannibal’s mouth. Hannibal chewed and swallowed almost at the same time. Will chuckled. “Feel free to make any face you want to, Dr. Lecter.” 

“That would be rude.” Hannibal said, before taking another bite. Will grinned further. His expression was blank, but he couldn’t have broadcasted his discontent any more if he had spit the pizza out onto the floor. 

“Very, but after all… it’s not like I want you to enjoy this.” Will teased.

“That much is clear.”

Will was having a lot of fun with this, now, watching Hannibal eat bite after piece of overly-greasy, chewy, five dollar pizza. He laughed for the first time in what felt like years. Realistically, probably closer to two months, he knew, but it was freeing to enjoy himself so much. “Am I a cruel captor?” He whispered as Hannibal chewed the last bite of the slice. 

“Unspeakably.” He said mildly, and Will nearly collapsed in a fit of laughter. 

He recovered himself, then said, “Another? You must be hungry.” 

“I suppose I must.” Hannibal replied, and accepted the next bite. 

“I wanted to get Taco Bell. Do you..? Do you even know what that is?” 

“Of course. It’s fast food.” 

“It’s terrible.” Will said, almost snickering now. “I guess I like it, but, it’s terrible.” 

“If it’s terrible, why do you like it?” 

“Well, it’s delicious in a way- full of fats and oils and things that most people like for evolutionary reasons. Like you do pine nuts, or pork.” 

“Both of those are healthy, in moderation.” 

“Right, and Taco Bell isn’t.” Will confirmed. He Hannibal chew for a moment, then added, “A recent law suit was saying their taco filling was made with silicon dioxide.” 

Hannibal swallowed and stared at Will, then down at the pizza. Looking back at Will, he said, very plainly, “Sand.” 

Will laughed again. “Yeah.” He said. “Sand.” 

“It seems I was actually lucky.” 

“Well, Taco Bell doesn’t deliver. I’m pretty sure the bread in this is probably just cardboard, though.” 

“Seitan, for certain. An interesting choice.” 

Will ignored this. “In Virginia, McDonalds will deliver. Not to Wolf Trap… but, they will deliver.” 

“I appreciate the efforts you made to increase my discomfort.” 

“I’ve got other ways. What’s the matter?” Will was holding half the second slice, still, but Hannibal had stopped taking it. 

“I feel ill.” 

“Physically?” 

“My body has never had to digest anything like this. I don’t think I can eat anymore.” 

Will didn’t force the issue, but as he returned the pizza to the box, he said, “It tastes even worse cold. Well, I guess if Alana asks why you sound different, you can tell her the food isn’t agreeing with you.” 

“I would smell it if it had gone off.” 

“Just be careful what you say.” 

“I thought I would be calling Jack Crawford.” 

“You’re not.” Will said. He put the pizza in the fridge and returned to untie Hannibal. With one arm free, he left him to untie himself and moved the box of sharp implements he had left in the hall. No good for Hannibal to steal one, should he notice it was there. “Get dressed.” He called over his shoulder. 

Will spent the next few minutes setting up the room to look like a hotel. With Hannibal’s help, he moved the bed against another wall and set up a chair, which Will instructed him not to move in if he valued his life and limbs. If Alana saw it, it would be a dead giveaway. He hung the curtains as Hannibal finished dressing properly, then tied Hannibal in the chair. He put his spices make-up on Hannibal’s cuts and the wine on the counter. 

“I would never call her by video.” Hannibal informed him as Will arranged the pillows on the side of the bed, making it look more like a couch that was mostly out of frame.

“I know,” Will said, his voice straining on the last syllable as he moved the in-table out of sight, so the flowers were visible more or less, and the wine, but not the shape of the table. “But she might ask, now that she knows I’ve escaped, and we need to be…” He stepped back to admire his handy-work. “Prepared.” 

“We?” Hannibal inquired politely. 

“You’re my accomplice for now, Hannibal.” 

Hannibal noted the use of his first name, but made no comment. 

Will held the paper in front of him. He’d had Hannibal read it before, but it wasn’t a script so much as suggested conversation phrases, and he didn’t want excuses. “Do I need to threaten you?” He asked. 

Hannibal shook his head minutely. “I fear another hour of waiting for rescue without relief is threat enough.” 

Will grinned involuntarily, then sobered. “Call her.” 

Hannibal pressed Alana’s number into the video chat service and Will got out of the way as it rang. 

“Hello?” 

“Alana. It’s Hannibal.” 

“Hannibal!” 

“How are you?” 

“I’m fine- are you- is everything okay?” 

“Yes, it’s fine. I heard about Will Graham’s escape. I needed to check on you.” 

“I’m glad you called. You didn’t leave a number for the hotel or anything.” 

Will put his finger pointedly on the print, but Hannibal didn’t need it. “Oh, well… let’s not bother the staff. I have at last downloaded an application for video conversations.” 

“It does video?” 

“Yes, apparently.” 

“What’s the app? I’ll call you on video.” 

Hannibal relayed the information and hung up. “You were right.” He said to Will as they waited for her to call back. 

“Of course.” 

The phone rang, and Will nodded. 

Hannibal smiled at Alana as her beautiful face graced the screen, pixelated but visible. “How is my reception?” 

“Not great, but it’ll have to do.” Alana said. 

“I’m afraid the wi-fi here is not up to my usual standard.” 

Will had turned off the wifi, in fact. The signal was connected to Hannibal’s phone instead, giving it less power to create a perfect image. 

“It’s fine. Where are you?” 

“Near Paris.” Will glared at Hannibal. It wasn’t on the list. 

“I meant what hotel.” Alana said. Will could hear the wind and realized that Alana was outside, obviously desperate to see Hannibal’s face. It hurt him like a stab to the gut. 

“La Rose Rouge,” Hannibal said in perfect French. “It’s more of a motel, I’m afraid. Nothing else to be had in Pontault-Combault.” 

“The Red Rose, Pontault-Combault,” Alana repeated. Will got the sense that she was writing it down. 

“What’s the number?” 

“Feel free to call me here. I’m afraid they only speak French at the counter- but Alana, I must ask you to leave the area until Will Graham is caught.”

“What? No, I can’t do that.” 

“Please, for me. I can not be there to protect you.” 

“I would think he’d be coming after you.” 

“Of course, but I do not think he has the means to follow me to Pontault-Combault at the moment. My concern is for you, and for Jack.” 

“You’re going to tell Jack to leave, too?” 

“He has experience. He has a gun, and a team. Let them find Will.” 

“Jack’s worried about you, by the way.” 

“Why? I told him I was leaving.” 

“He said you called, but you left the same night Will broke out. We thought maybe he had got you. They’re getting a warrant to search your house for him.” 

Hannibal paused for a moment, took a sip of his wine. “Bad timing. I should have been more aware of your feelings. I do apologise.” 

“It’s fine, we’re just worried.” Alana said. “Tell me what’s going on.” 

“I would like to save that conversation for when I return. I’m afraid it’s quite serious, but I’m not in any danger myself.” 

Will pointed at the paper again. Hannibal seemed to take no notice, but he obeyed. “Now, I must insist that you leave the East Coast. Perhaps stay with your cousin.” 

“I’m not flying to Nevada.” Alana complained. 

Hannibal wanted to follow the code she was dropping for him, but he saw Will’s brow furrow- his look of mistrust. She must of forgotten Will would have that little tidbit of information.

“I thought that your cousin lived in Montana.” Hannibal said. Will nodded once at him. 

On the other end of the line, it was clear that Alana had been thrown for a loop. She faltered. “She uh… she moved.” 

“Nevada, then.” Hannibal said. “See Lake Tahoe.” 

Alana sighed. “I’ll think about it.” 

“I hope you will think quickly.” 

“I’ve got to go, I’m already late for class, but call me if you need anything.” 

“My apologies- I had not considered the time zones.” 

“You look exhausted.” 

“I’ll be sure to get some sleep if you are sure to buy the evening flight to your cousin’s house.” Hannibal said with a sly smile. 

Alana laughed. “I’ll call you when it’s not 11:30.” Another good try, Will thought. But Hannibal covered again. 

“Actually, it’s only 9:30.” He said, checking his watch. Then he smiled. “But you are late. Goodnight, Alana.” 

“Goodnight, Hannibal. And call Jack!” 

Hannibal nodded and hung up.

“I suppose you get that bathroom break after all.” Will said. 

“Excellent.” Hannibal said, “Because I feel that I will be sick.”


	5. Le veau d'or

Hannibal stood up and went to the bathroom as soon as he was untied. Kneeling down without even closing the door, he was violently sick for several minutes. Will waited, not bothering to clean up the space. The bed posts were just as useful with the bed facing this direction than any other. 

“It’s ironic to me… that eating your own species… doesn’t make you ill, as fast food apparently does.” Will said, sitting on the bed where he could watch Hannibal from a distance. “After I recovered my memory of what you had done…” Will shook his head. “After that… I spit out my food, Hannibal.”

He stood, put his hands in his pockets, and walked slowly over to the bathroom door, almost sauntering. “I couldn’t even swallow, I was so repulsed. I didn’t eat for almost two days-I-“ He laughed bitterly- “I threw up everything I could but.” Will shook his head slightly to the left, “I knew that it was too late. Everything you had fed me, everything you had given me, was already in my system, wasn’t it? I… had… digested it. I had…expelled it, already.” 

Hannibal reached up and flushed the toilet, took some paper to wipe his mouth, and threw it into the toilet. He didn’t have the strength to argue just now, but rage was coursing through him again. He reminded himself gently of Will’s importance to him, and his logic in reaction. All for Abigail, everything for Abigail. He hoped that one day, Will would be able to see he, Hannibal, was Will’s everything. He only needed to endure Will’s punishments for a while longer. 

Hannibal stood up shakily and undid his pants so he could relieve himself. He was unsurprised when Will watched him do this, unmoving in the doorway. Hannibal washed his hands and turned to face Will. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to eat any more of that.” 

Will laughed. “I should just force feed you.” He remarked. He saw Hannibal tense for a fight. At last it seemed he could stand no more of Will’s tortures. “Don’t worry, Dr. Lecter. They’re coming for you, remember?” 

“I’ve assuaged their fears with my call to Alana.” 

“You and I both know that Jack will search this house even if you call him this moment.” 

“May I at least be permitted to brush my teeth?” Hannibal asked. Will saw Hannibal’s jaw let go of its tension when he allowed it. 

Will nodded. “Get on the bed. You won’t be waiting for long.” Will said when Hannibal had finished.

Hannibal nodded curtly. This time, Will tied him up while he was still dressed. “Will I be allowed to finish that wine?” He asked, and Will smiled. 

“No.” He said. Then he got up and left the room with the glass. 

Will gathered all the things in the freezer from downstairs and pilled them onto one of Hannibal’s expensive sofa chairs in the parlour. He turned the other to face the door. Then he returned to the bedroom to lay with Hannibal, his head beneath Hannibal’s pitt, snuggled into his chest. 

“You don’t seem concerned that you will be caught.” Hannibal remarked in the silence. 

“I was always going to be caught.” Will whispered back.

“If you left now, you might be able to escape.” 

“Hide in shipyards, fix boats? Slowly succumb to my encephalitis?” Will said, continuing to whisper. “There’s no options for me.” 

“I could have helped you, Will. Perhaps I still can, if they find no trace of me here.” 

The silence stretched between them, and if Will had checked the clock, he would have seen that an hour had passed before he voiced what was on his mind.

“Given that I…gi-” Will let the rest of his sentence go in a breath. Hannibal waited. “Given th- given that I… still… what could we be? Could you… really fo- forgive me for this?”

“I already have.” Hannibal said, matter-of-factly. 

Will looked up at Hannibal with shock. 

“Please don’t misunderstand my generosity. I feel that you have punished me greatly. You have been quite cruel. But my love for you runs deeper than that, Will.” 

Will closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face.

“Given that I were a killer, would you be able to forgive me?” Hannibal asked.

He could hardly hear the answer when Will managed it, his voice broken, “…No.…” “I cou- I couldn’t. I can’t.” But he rested his face in the crook of Hannibal’s neck as he said it.

“Yet you lie here with me. I sense that you would like if I held you.” 

“It’s sick.” Will breathed, and his voice cracked with pain as he continued, his breath warm against Hannibal’s skin. “Sick…” 

Not at all suddenly, Will sat up and cupped one hand around Hannibal’s right ear. He kissed him deeply, savouring the full lips that had manipulated him for so many weeks. Hannibal kissed him back, breathing life into their touch with his movements.

When they broke, Hannibal murmured, “Release me, Will.” 

Will gave a small sigh. “I suppose there’s not much to loose, is there?” 

“I will not harm you.” Hannibal reassured him.

“Then why do you want to be free?” Will asked, almost incredulous. 

“I … wish to hold you. I will not be able to do so again, I suspect.” 

Will exhaled, biting his lip in the briefest of moments, just long enough to leave Hannibal wanting, and began to untie him. 

The second he was free, Hannibal wrapped his arms around Will, strong, soft, firm and gentle, holding Will. A sense of safety washed over Will, and for the first time in years, he felt complete. 

Will returned the gesture, folding his hands around Hannibal’s body, feeling down the curve of his back- the perfect straight line of his spine- down, and up… petting him, loving his skin beneath the white button-up he still wore. 

Hannibal moaned low. Then he leaned in, and he began to kiss Will, gently at first, but Will deepened the kiss, possessing Hannibal. 

Hannibal shifted his position as Will broke the kiss, laying down on his back, surrendering his body and his mind to Will’s desires. Will kissed him again, his hands reaching beneath the shirt once more to thread his fingers into Hannibal’s chest hair. He kissed Hannibal again. 

Deep, slow, kisses; deep, slow, ruts; deep, slow, pets. Hannibal and Will explored each other, touching every inch of skin they could reach, their hands roaming over cloth to find new land. 

Hannibal cupped his right hand under Will’s backside and explored his shoulder with the other, pulling him into kiss after kiss, each deeper and more sensual than the last. Will thrust against Hannibal tenderly, but his aim was still wild and uninhibited, and Hannibal could tell that Will was thinking about doing much, much more. 

“Will you untie my feet?” Hannibal requested, as polite as could be. 

“I like to watch you strain.” Will replied and there was a dangerous undercurrent to his voice. 

He didn’t let Hannibal reply, but reached down, stroking Hannibal… just… so… over his clothed cock. Hannibal sighed, his back arching as he thrust his head and posterior wantonly into the sheets. 

“Will…” Hannibal half-whispered, half moaned. 

Will watched Hannibal close his eyes in pleasure, and he smiled at that. Then he slid down the length of Hannibal’s body to his feet to untie them. 

Hannibal immediately bent his knees, opening his legs wide in invitation. Will didn’t hesitate, but put both hands on Hannibal’s shins, spreading his legs wider. At last he bent over Hannibal’s cock.

He licked once slowly upwards. Hannibal grasped the sheets with both hands, his back arching again, the loss of control evident.

Will sat up and started unbuttoning his own shirt. Hannibal propped up on one elbow. His talented fingers stretched out towards Will and started to expertly unclip the buttons one by one, as if he had done this a thousand times. Will inhaled sharply when Hannibal’s fingers brushed bare skin, his eyes closing on instinct, as if Hannibal had shocked him with an electric wire.

Hannibal sat up, his core engaged to hold his weight as he gently slid both hands over Will’s shoulders. Will let his arms fall to his sides so Hannibal could slide off the shirt and toss it to the side of the bed. 

Hannibal grasped Will’s shoulders and placed feverish kisses all along Will’s pecks and right shoulder. Will took this opportunity to reach forward and undo the buttons on Hannibal’s shirt. He slid his hands up, through Hannibal’s chest hair, enjoying the sensation. Hannibal broke his kisses to remove his own shirt. Almost in an act of cruelty, Will discarded it on the floor. The corner of Hannibal’s mouth twitched. Then he set about ravishing Will’s lips again.

Will pushed Hannibal down forcefully, taking over the kiss, slipping his tongue inside and filling Hannibal completely. Hannibal allowed this. His hands were busy undoing the buttons on Will’s slacks, everything gentle, nothing rushed. And Will wasn’t rushing either. 

He reached down into Hannibal’s pants and grasped his erection, squeezing. Hannibal nearly whined into the kiss. Will played there for a while, his fingers spread spider-like over Hannibal’s member, his middle one gently stoking, feeling Hannibal harden. Will felt a serge of sensual dominance take him. 

He felt Hannibal’s hands grasp his waist and still as if frozen by Will’s ministrations. Will retrieved his hand and Hannibal breathed again. He swallowed. “Are you going to take me?” He asked Will, his voice low and much rougher than Will had ever heard it. 

“I’m going to fuck you.” Will corrected, as casually as he would state the weather. 

Will took the belt loops of Hannibal’s pants into his fingers with both hands and pulled hard, snapping the buttons off and breaking the loop on the left side. “That was unnecessary.” 

“Shut up.” Then Will put two fingers inside of Hannibal’s mouth, incidentally, the two that had been touching Hannibal’s erection just moments before, to suck. 

Hannibal obeyed the unspoken order, hallowing out his cheeks to show Will his enthusiasm in the occupation Will had given his lips. Will reached his free hand past Hannibal’s broken buttons and stroked him delicately. Hannibal moaned and moved his hips in shallow thrusts into Will’s hand. His hands explored from Will’s waist to his chest, feeling him up. Will stoked Hannibal’s tongue with two fingers.

Will abruptly pulled his fingers out and grasped the top of Hannibal’s pants roughly to prise them off until they lay inside-out at the base of the bed. Without preamble, Will stuck those wet fingers into Hannibal, scissoring them and moving them about. Then, just as quickly as he had entered them, Will tugged them out. 

Without saying anything, he grabbed Hannibal’s hair, and pulled him up into a sitting position, then immediately down, so he was almost doubled over where he could take Will’s cock into his mouth and pleasure it. 

“Make it sloppy if you don’t want it to hurt.” 

Hannibal obeyed, salivating excessively over Will’s erection, making him wet and hard and ready. Will let out a sigh of pleasure, tossing back his head involuntarily, briefly. When he recovered from the initial spark of rapture, he looked back down at Hannibal. It was then that Will realized that, doubled over the way he was, Hannibal could have easily taken his own cock into his mouth as well. Something in Will jumped and a voice in the back of his head chimed in you want to see that… 

He pulled Hannibal off of him. “Flexible, aren’t you?”

Hannibal gave him his own version of a shrewd look- the same look he gave Will as his therapist when he knew that Will was holding back. “I am.” he replied. 

“Suck yourself.” Will demanded in a whisper. 

Hannibal didn’t hesitate or question. Will got out of the way so Hannibal could lift both knees, scooting down to accommodate the ropes on his legs, and place his knees on either side of his head so he could take his dick into his mouth. Meeting Will’s eyes, he began to slurp sensually at it, circling his tongue over the tip until his eyes fluttered shut of their own volition and he moaned deep in his throat. He heard Will moan as well.

Then he felt Will push forward inside of him, resting his hands on Hannibal’s exposed inner thighs. At long last, Will began to fuck him. 

Hannibal allowed himself some abandon. He couldn’t look Will in the eyes in this position, but he moaned for him- deeply, sensually- and gave himself pleasure in ways that few others could have. Will hadn’t tried to find his prostrate, but Hannibal felt sure that between the pressure at the ring of muscles at his sphincter, and his own lips and tongue lapping at his member, he would soon be spilling his seed. Oh, how he wanted Will to spill inside him. He gave a lewd moan at the thought and heard Will return it again. 

Then, with a few short moans, Hannibal was spilling into his own mouth. He came on his tongue and down his own throat. Rarely had Hannibal engaged in drinking his own sperm, but this time he relented to the pleasure and allowed himself to swallow. He could feel Will’s gaze burning through him. He put his head back, letting his cock fall from his mouth, his lips red and parted in a lewd expression. 

Will allowed him straighten out, resting both of Hannibal’s ankles on Will’s shoulders. They locked eyes for a moment, and Hannibal let his legs fall from Will’s body. He leaned up, resting his weight into Will, forcing Will’s legs to bend under him so Will was resting on his thighs and Hannibal was nearly sitting on his lap, where he kissed Will deeply. 

Will could taste Hannibal’s ejaculate in his mouth. He felt his cock jump inside Hannibal at that. He plundered Hannibal’s mouth with his tongue, searching for more, catching bits of his musk, breathing hard. The romance was not lost on Will. He pushed onto Hannibal and together they fell, Hannibal controlling his decent into the pillows. Will dug his hands into Hannibal’s hair to comb through it passionately. They kissed for a moment, Will buried deep inside of Hannibal, his hips still. 

Emotion seized Will- rage, at himself and Hannibal, mixed with guilt and scorn and disdain and wounded pride- and when he pulled away, Hannibal could see a single tear escape him. Will was crying- quietly- but crying. “Shhhhhhh.” Hannibal whipped the tear away from Will’s cheek, his other hand threading through Will’s hair. 

Will gasped and took the hand that Hannibal had used into his own hand. He forced it down into the sheets next to the pillow where Hannibal’s head lay. Will made a sound like he was holding his breath back, a tortured expression on his every feature, then Hannibal watched another tear fall onto the skin at his collar. 

“Shhhhhhh, Will… I have you.” Hannibal whispered, barely audible. And with that, Will thrust once more and emptied himself into Hannibal’s body. He gasped and sputtered through his entire orgasm, nearly hyperventilating with emotion and sensation. Hannibal held him tightly, their chests together and Will’s head buried into the pillow, breathing hot air onto Hannibal’s neck. 

They lay there together for a moment, Will complete inside of Hannibal and Hannibal complete in fulfilling Will. 

Will slowly drew himself out of Hannibal. 

They exchanged a few more lazy kisses, and Will rested his head on Hannibal’s chest. Naked, together, they fell asleep. 

Hannibal woke slowly the next morning. He blinked a few times at the emptiness across from him, but just as he sat up to see where Will had gone, he felt the familiar burn of the ropes on his damaged skin. “Will?” 

“Don’t fight, Hannibal.” Will sighed out, his voice still low.

“They’re going to be here soon.” Hannibal told him as Will tied the rope around his other ankle. 

“Yeah, they will.” He slid up the sheets so he could reach Hannibal’s arm. Hannibal offered no resistance, at least not with his body.

“Why set the stage for them? No one needs to know what you did.” Hannibal paused as Will stood up, sighing a little. His expression said it all. “Do you think you need to be punished for this?” Hannibal asked, as perceptive as ever. 

“I think Alana Bloom… didn’t deserve this.” Will said slowly, crossing to the other side of the bed and tying Hannibal’s other wrist. Hannibal noted that the knots were looser this morning. Regret? Or guilt? 

“We have no understanding.” 

“Did you sleep with her?” Will asked suddenly, as if he were a jealous husband. 

“No.” Hannibal replied. “It would be most uncivil to assume we had no understanding, given that I had been intimate with her.” 

Will nodded in much the same way that he had when he’d discovered that Hannibal had been keeping secrets about Abigail. 

“Do you seek to humiliate me?” Hannibal asked. 

“I guess I’m going to punish us both.” Will said, his voice cracking in pain on the last syllables. He left the room with new clothes, and Hannibal let him go. 

After he showered and changed, taking much more care in his appearance than he usually did, Will went to the kitchen and got a glass to pour himself some wine. Then he returned to the entrance way and sat in the chair facing the door, his legs crossed, next to the pile of now defrosted meats. Will sat and drank his wine occasionally, waiting for the inevitable knock on the door.

When it came, it was more of an explosion. They kicked down the door without notice, but Will had seen the shifting behind the glass. He made no move as Jack entered, except to sip his wine. “Good morning, Jack.” He said. 

“Will, where’s Dr. Lecter?” 

“In the bedroom.” Will said simply. Beverly immediately branched off with a few men to go check. “I’m glad you’re here, and with a warrant no less.” 

“This is unprecedented. First you escape and now this? How can you expect us to believe you’re innocent? Put the wine glass down, now.” Will did so, offering both wrists. “Beverley?” Jack called. 

“He’s alive. Call an ambulance.” A few seconds passed while the agents had Will stand and put his hands behind his back, then Beverley called out, “He’s refusing an ambulance.” 

Jack made to go into the other room, but Hannibal came out, tying his robe still. “I don’t need one. Thank you, Jack. Please treat Will gently as you take him in.” 

Will chuckled aloud and Jack looked at him. “Check his freezer, Jack. There’s samples right there.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“The ripper kills in sounders of three or four in quick order. Do you know why? I know why.”

“Hannibal Lecter is not the Chesapeake Ripper.” Jack said firmly.

“He’s eating them, Jack. Test the meat.” 

Jack paused. In fact, it seemed the whole room had paused. Then Jack said, “Hannibal… is like Garrett Jacob Hobbs?” The disbelief in his voice was evident. “A cannibal.” 

“No, not like Garrett Jacob Hobbs. Hobbs ate his victims to honor them; the Ripper eats his victims because they're no better to him than pigs.” Will met Hannibal’s eyes as he said this, and Hannibal did not break contact.

Jack looked at Hannibal as well. Hannibal nodded once. “A theory I had not yet considered. It’s possible, of course, that his reasoning is just that.” 

Jack hesitated, then said, “Let me check your food cellar.” 

“Is that the purpose of your warrant?” Hannibal asked. 

“No, it’s for Will Graham.” Jack said. 

“Then I can not allow you to search the house, Jack.”

“May I take what’s here?” Jack asked casually. 

“I am terribly sorry to be so rude, but I wish to be left alone now.” Hannibal replied. 

Jack advanced on him, hands in his pockets but a suspicious look on his face. “Do you have something to hide, Dr Lecter?” 

“Jack!” Beverley exclaimed. 

There was a short pause in which Hannibal let Jack’s words settle between them, then he said, “Only trauma, I’m afraid.” 

Beverly stepped forward, put her hand on Jack’s arm, and stood tip-toe to whisper in his ear. When she stepped back, she looked pointedly at Jack, then at Will as if she couldn’t put enough disdain into the action. Will laughed quietly, but turned his gaze to the floor. 

Jack turned slowly on the spot and looked Will in face, though he couldn’t meet his eyes. “Get this piece of shit out of here.” He said, mirroring Beverley’s contempt. They pulled Will from the room. 

Half-way to the door, he realized they weren’t going to check the meat. “No, no! Check his- check his freezer, Jack!” Will said, struggling. “Test the meat! It’s right there! Test it!”

“Don’t talk to me as if we’re friends.” Jack said. He shook his head as Will disappeared from view. Hannibal was gathering the frozen packages. He handed one to Beverley. 

“Please.” Was all he said. Then he disappeared into the kitchen. 

Jack nodded once at Beverley, who turned to go. Then he followed Hannibal. “Dr. Lecter, I need you to take a rape kit.” 

“I’ve already informed Ms. Katz that I do not wish to do so.” 

“Hannibal-”

“Jack,” Hannibal said, suddenly freezing mid-motion and bowing his head. “You know that I despise impoliteness, but I have asked you to leave.” 

Jack nodded, though Hannibal couldn’t see him. Then he walked out the front door and closed it behind him.


	6. Fugaku Sanjurokkei

Beverley Katz: 

The first thing she saw when Jack entered in front of her was Will Graham. He was dressed up, a button up shirt with a jacket, slacks, even a glass of wine. Everything he was wearing must have been Hannibal’s, but she had very little time to register this before Jack was sending her to the bedroom. 

She entered with her gun drawn, Yax and Quill behind her, but what she saw stopped her dead in her tracks. Hannibal looked at her blankly, and she looked back. “Oh my god.” She breathed. 

“What?” Quill asked. She motioned them from the room. 

“I’ll take it, I’ll take it.” She said. 

Testament to their faith in her abilities and judgment, they backed out without a question. She holstered her gun and went to untie Dr. Lecter. “Tell me this isn’t what it looks like.” She said, knowing he couldn’t. He had obviously been fighting his bonds and there was still dried cum on his thighs. 

“This isn’t what it looks like.” Hannibal said mildly. 

“No, I changed my mind. Tell me this is what it looks like, so we can burry Will Graham.” 

“I can not do that.” 

“Beverley!” She heard from the other room. 

“He’s alive!” She called back, then she whispered, “shit, oh,” and yelled to Jack, “Call an ambulance!” 

“I don’t need one.” 

“You’re bleeding- you’ve been raped!” She said to him, but he shook his head. 

“I am in my right mind and I am refusing medical assistance.” 

“I’m not sure you are in your right mind.” 

“My name is Dr. Hannibal Lecter, I am a psychiatrist and a former surgeon, and I am refusing medical assistance.” 

Beverly sighed, untying the last knot. “He’s refusing an ambulance.” 

Hannibal sprung up immediately and, ignoring the cum in his ass and the rope burns on his wrist, which made Beverly almost put her hand to her mouth in shock (only years of experience wearing those gloves saved her), Hannibal put on a robe. 

“I’ll get a technician to do a rape kit.” Beverly murmured.

But as he passed her in the doorway he said, “I don’t wish to take a rape kit.” 

Beverley felt the next few minutes were both surreal and sharp in her mind. As soon as she handed the meat off to Price, she met Jack in the doorway. He closed the door behind him.

“He’s hiding something.” He said.

“Jack, the man was just raped in his own home- he wants a little privacy to process.” 

“He should have taken a rape kit.” 

“He refused, he doesn’t want to think about it.” 

“He should know how this goes. He doesn’t press charges- if Will Graham walks free, who knows what he’ll do?” Jack said forcefully. 

“We can’t force him to take a rape kit.” Beverly told him.

“She’s right, you know.” Z added.

“And there’s no way a judge won’t convict Will, given the amount of evidence we found on him…” Beverly argued. Jack ignored her. 

“Did Will Graham hear his rights?” He yelled to the group at large. “I need to know who read Will Graham his rights.” He walked away from the door. Beverley stared at it for a minute, then looked at the back of the police car, where Will was still struggling. 

She walked to the car and knocked on the window. He stopped to listen to her. “I got a sample.” 

“Who chose it?” Will asked immediately. 

“I did,” she lied just as quickly, “you piece of trash.” Then she walked away. 

Alana Bloom:

Alana rang the doorbell with perhaps more ferocity than she intended. She had been anxious for an explanation all day, and everyone was growing strangely silent around her whenever she asked what had happened. She saw the shadow over the window before she heard the door open. She looked up.

Hannibal gave her a sweet smile. “Come in.” She smiled back and nodded, passing him in the doorway, where she heard him take a deep breath of her perfume. “That dress is stunning on you, Alana.” He said as he closed the door. Her smiled widened into something more genuine. 

She didn’t reply, instead saying, “I’m sorry I didn’t call.” 

“You called twice. I’m sorry I didn’t answer.” 

She looked him over. He seemed relatively unharmed, maybe a little pale, but it was hard to tell since he was wearing just a white button-up, for which the top two buttons were undone. Without his usual splashes of color, his skin tone might be muted. “I was worried.” She said as he led her into the kitchen. “Jack won’t tell me anything- Beverly wouldn’t even look me in the eye.” 

“Embarrassed, I expect.” Hannibal said. “It took Jack rather longer than I thought, to realize the phone call was a sham.” 

“We all thought he was here, but there wasn’t anything we could do- you said you were out of town- No. I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“I’m not trying to blame you.” Alana said. Hannibal crossed to the other side of the counter. He was in the middle of chopping some vegetables. 

“And you haven’t. I’m sorry for the lies I had to tell you, Alana.” He said kindly. 

Alana gave him a look of disbelief. “I assume he had a gun on you.” 

“He did.” 

“Jack says he can’t figure out how he escaped or how he got the gun. All the cameras were inexplicably down for some reason. Chilton isn’t saying.” 

Hannibal continued chopping. “Perhaps he simply got lucky this time around.” 

“Cell door just opened up and let him out?” 

Hannibal paused to look at her. “Maybe so.” He said, all too serious. 

“Did he tell you something?” Alana guessed. 

“He told me many things, but I’m afraid how he escaped was not one of them.” 

“What was he doing?” Alana dared. 

Hannibal sighed. “He tied me up, starved me, mostly.” 

Alana shook her head, her brow furrowed. “God…” she whispered. “I can’t believe…” She rested one hand on the counter, looking towards the pantry with an empty expression for a bit, then said, “I’m sorry. You’ve probably had to re-live this a hundred times.” 

“I didn’t tell anyone what happened, not yet.” 

“What? Why?” 

“If I do, what will happen to Will?” 

Alana turned to face him again. “Fuck Will!” she said with so much force he glanced up at her. He scraped both sides of his knife on the cutting board to remove the pieces of mushroom and gave her his full attention. 

“Alana, I want to help Will, not drive him away.” 

“He attacked you in your home, Hannibal!” She couldn’t believe what he was saying. The more that Will made him suffer, the more Hannibal seemed to want him around. It was ridiculous. 

But Hannibal said, “And I forgive him. Will is confused. He needs us more than ever now.” He didn’t give her a chance to respond before he offered, “beer?” 

Alana gave a deep sigh. “Yes. Thanks.” 

He took one from the fridge and gave it to her. As she drank, she thought on Will, but her mind strayed to the strange flavour that had plagued her for a while now. “Almost… smokey….” She mumbled, and she could swear she felt Hannibal smile. 

Frederick Chilton:

Frederick was waiting for them at the entrance to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, resting his body smugly on his cane as they brought him past. If asked, he certainly would have denied any pleasure at seeing that mask in place and the look of hate in Will Graham’s eyes as he caught Frederick’s self-satisfied grin. “Put him in the box.” He told the guards lazily. One of them nodded. 

Jack Crawford was lingering on the doorstep, and Frederick addressed him. “Thank you for bringing him back so hastily.” 

“Make sure you don’t loose him this time.” 

“I’m conducting an internal investigation to find out how he escaped. Trust me, I don’t believe the cameras and microphones to have been offline by accident. Not by any means.” 

“Make it snappy. I’m sure I won’t get much out of him.” 

“I’ll need his file, if you have further information.” Frederick said with mock politeness. 

Crawford visibly hesitated. Then he motioned to Beverley Katz, who stepped forward and gave Frederick the file, a look of disappointed exasperation on her face. “We have no evidence, other than what we saw.” She said. “Do- the victim… wouldn’t take a rape kit.” 

“I rape kit?” Frederick parroted, mortified shock painting his every feature.

“I need to talk to him.” Crawford said in his usual stern voice.

“So do I, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait.” He gave Jack what he thought might be a sympathetic look and turned to go inside. 

Frederick took his time in following the guards, letting Graham stew in the box for a few minutes as he flipped through the file, becoming more and more giddy as he read. The victim, yes of course. Dr. Hannibal Lecter had been raped by Will Graham. How utterly terrifying and distinctly sickening and wonderfully delightful all at once. 

He stopped in front of Will Graham. “Well Mr. Graham, I would be… impressed. If I wasn’t so disgusted.” 

Will stared into the distance past Chilton for a minute, then looked Frederick directly in the eye. “Is this how you address all of your patients, Dr. Chilton?” 

“Well, I certainly think there’s certain ones who.. don’t mind being told. That they are dangerous.” Frederick regarded Will for a moment. “Are you one of them?” He asked plainly. 

“You think I should… own this? Is that what you’re saying?” 

“Only you can decide.” Frederick replied matter-of-factly. “But I certainly think there’s no use in denying it. It might even help your recovery.” 

“Then you’ll be happy to know that I haven’t denied anything.” 

“You admit to having sexually assaulted Hannibal Lecter?” 

He saw Will Graham give a slight smile, then his expression cleared and he said, “Yes.” 

Frederick had to hold back a smile. “And how did that make you feel?” He asked. 

Graham didn’t answer for a moment. “Still lobbing softballs, Dr. Chilton?” 

“Hoping to make a bigger splash than that.” Frederick offered. He was curious. Curiosity was consuming him. What had Will Graham really done? And what had Dr. Lecter done about it?

“Very well. Let’s make a deal.” 

Intrigued, Frederick said, “What ‘this’ are you offering in exchange for my ‘that?’”

“I'm quite the topic of conversation in psychiatric circles.”

Frederick paused at that. Was Graham telling him what he thought he was? But if so, he couldn’t let his interest show. Not at all. “You know what I think?” 

“No, what do you think?” 

“I think you’re not special at all, Mr. Graham. Not very different from the average rapist or murderer. All your personality disorders, neuroses… they’re all forgeries.”

“Even if that were true, I'd still be a psychopath of some interest.”

“Hm.” Fredrick agreed. “And a particularly-manipulative one at that. Poor, confused, wounded bird for Agent Crawford and Doctors Lecter and Bloom- well, I suppose Dr. Lecter will have much less sympathy now, at least. But for me, well, I get the psychopath's triumvirate: charm, focus and ruthlessness. The charm, of course, being debatable… and you’re already starting to show your true colors, aren’t you?”

“And you’re curious, right? About my true colors.” 

They studied each other for a moment, then Frederick decided it was time to get what he came for. “Will you allow me to test you?”

“I’ll take ‘em all.” Graham said in a voice resembling a scoff. “Thematic Apperception. Minnesota Multiphasic. You'll be the first and last word on the mind of Will Graham. You could dine out on that for years.”

“What about Dr. Lecter?” Frederick challenged.

“Shouldn't you be my one and only psychiatrist, Dr. Chilton?”  
“Ideally.” He paused. “And… in fact, given the circumstance.” 

“Exactly. So as for your ‘that’ for my ‘this,’ do not discuss me or my therapy with Hannibal Lecter.” 

“You're a common point of interest for both of us.” Frederick argued, just to see what Graham would say. “He'll want to know why I won't discuss you and why he's not allowed to see you, even after what you did.” 

“I refused to engage in my therapy so you confined me to solitary out of spite.” Will Graham suggested. “He’d believe that. Or better yet, tell him that given the … personal… nature of my attack… I'm now under your exclusive care.”

Frederick considered this. “Before we begin our first tests, then… I’m afraid Jack Crawford would like a visit.” 

“You just love to share, don’t you, Dr. Chilton?” 

“Well, it’s not as if I have something to hide.” Frederick shrugged and walked out of the room. 

John Doe:

“Hi, welcome to the Samsung Store. How can I help you today?” John greeted as the automatic doors opened, breaking off from his conversation with Lily. It was a slow day, and they’d been discussing customer horror stories. 

“Hello,” said the gentleman who’d come in. He was supporting a friendly smile and a tablet, which he held out to John for his inspection. “I’m afraid I’m having difficultly unlocking my tablet.” 

“Okay, let me have a look.” John said, glancing down as he took the tablet. This guy was quite a spectacle in his three piece suit. He was wearing a floral tie and John wasn’t sure if his red striped plaid jacket clashed with the tie or made it pop. Everything was clearly out of his budget though, so John decided not to judge. “What seems to be the problem?” 

“A friend of mine changed the password, and now I can’t get it to open.” 

John stopped. “Prank?” He said with a grin.

“I’m afraid not.” 

The smile melted off of John’s face and he cleared his throat. Something about the expression the gentleman had given him was… frightening. “Well, if it’s a password issue, our only option really is a factory reset.”

The man tilted his head to the side, saying politely, “Won’t that wipe the data from the device?” 

“Unfortunately, yes.” There was a brief pause, then John offered, “If it was a friend, can’t you ask him what he changed it to?” 

“He expects me to guess.” The man told him, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

John didn’t know what to make of that, so he said, “Well, we can’t do anything else. I’m sorry. You have to know the password. It’s a security issue, sir.” 

The man nodded. “I understand. Thank you for your time.” 

“Yeah, no… thanks for coming. Sorry about that.” 

The man nodded once and walked out of the door. 

“Oh my fucking god. Did you see his tie?” Lily said. 

Jack Crawford: 

“How did you get out?” 

Jack Crawford was standing in front of Will, who was finally through processing and back where Jack was now sure he belonged- in a cage at Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. 

Will looked at him through the bars of the box sitting in the middle of the room and said nothing.

“Tell me I didn’t see what I think I saw, Will.” 

“What did you see?” Will whispered.

“I guess what I saw was… you broke into your old psychiatrist’s house to rape him as punishment for crimes only you associate with him.” Jack said sternly. 

“Well, it wasn’t rape.” Will replied, his head tilting to the side as he raised an eyebrow.

“Are you trying to tell me you had consent?” Jack asked.

“Oh, I had… enthusiastic… consent.” 

“Your punishment for Dr. Lecter was to give him something he wanted.” Jack said, his baritone voice carrying so much disbelief it sounded like a statement.

“No, my punishment for him was forcing him to soil his sheets several times. The sex was just a… perk.” 

“Do you know… how incredibly difficult you’ve made this for me?” 

“As I recall, you were already on the other side of the fence.” Will countered.

“And now I’m positive I should be there.” 

Will gave a chuckle that was little more than a breath of air from his nose. “Do you think that Hannibal was ever going to let me go? He went through all the trouble of framing me for his crimes- he’s not going to back down now.” 

“I wouldn’t either, given what you just did. And now you’re facing extra charges and this time we have a lot more than just an ear.” 

Will sat down in his box and put his arms through the bars to rest them there. He studied Jack for a moment, then said, “So Dr. Lecter took a rape kit.” It was so matter-of-fact that Jack could tell Will was well aware that he hadn’t been able to get Hannibal to take any tests. 

He looked back at Will for a moment, then said, “This conversation is getting us nowhere.” Jack started to walk away, back up the steps. He paused for a moment when Will said: 

“Didn’t you wonder why he wouldn’t?” 

Without turning around, Jack continued up the steps, but Will’s voice seemed to echo in his ear, until “didn’t you wonder why he wouldn’t,” turned to “and I did wonder why he wouldn’t.” 

Dr. Du Maurier:

Bedelia sat with her legs crossed, studying Hannibal as he perched pristinely in his chair across from her, his legs also crossed and his hands folded in front of him. 

“Jack Crawford asked me if he’d heard from you. What is the situation now, Hannibal?” She asked as soon as he had settled in, since he didn’t broach any particular subject. 

He looked at her with polite interest for a moment, then said, “Will Graham escaped from the hospital. He found me at home and kept me there for a few days.” 

“To what end?” She asked, skipping the sympathy. He probably wouldn’t appreciate it, and he definitely didn’t need it. 

Hannibal took a deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly, his eyes focusing somewhere past her knee for a moment, clearly judging how much to divulge- how much of a peek she would get today. At last, he said, “He came to rape me.” 

“And did he succeed?” Bedelia asked, never allowing her slight surprise to mar her features. 

“No.” Hannibal said plainly, but the implication was left hanging between them. 

“And did he find… some other way? To hurt you.” 

“Will is very imaginative. And very insightful.” Hannibal replied.

“And where did his imagination lead him?” Belidia asked softly, though she was burning with the desire to know what had caused Hannibal so much pain that he didn’t want to speak of it openly.

“To indignity.” Hannibal replied. 

“You seem unfazed by your time with him. Is that how you… truly feel?” 

Hannibal only studied her. Without answering, he readjusted his position in the chair. Then he said, “I have managed to reclaim some of the power he took.” 

“How so?” 

“Through fantasy. An age-old coping mechanism… I have been reimagining the situation.”  
“And how do you imagine it?” 

“At the time, I was tied to the bed. I imagine my hands and legs are free. I take control of the situation and partake. I ask Will to touch me… I touch Will. I am an active participant with desires that are met.” 

“Never the perpetrator?” 

“No,” Hannibal said with an odd smile, “never.” 

“But it wasn’t the rape, attempted or otherwise… that shook you. In that way, you were an active participant already. What would be the difference?” 

“In my fantasies, Will is gentle with my needs.”

“For example?” Bedelia prodded.

“I cook… he feeds me.” 

Then Graham had starved him… but that simply wasn’t enough. Something else had happened. But she realized she had reached the only destination she was allowed to. The destination of Hannibal’s choosing. No further information would be divulged. 

“A gentle fantasy.” Bedelia whispered, still looking at Hannibal. 

“You disapprove of fantasy in the case of trauma?” 

“I think you know it isn’t a coping mechanism.” 

“Fantasies as coping mechanisms are quite common, and in some cases, helpful.” 

“Have you found it helpful?”

“Yes.” 

Bedelia smiled again, but it disappeared quickly as she thought over her reaction.

“Your ‘coping mechanisms’ are fantasies,” She said at last, “but they are not the result of rape or trauma. They are the result of your unwillingness to believe that you are obsessed with Will Graham, and desire him sexually… and Will Graham's unwillingness to believe the same.” 

“Will feels that I am a monster. He will tell anyone who listens.” 

Bedelia paused, then smiled slightly. “And yet, out of all the punishments he could think of… with what you yourself claim is an excellent imagination, he chooses the only one that will give him physical and emotional intimacy. Intimacy with you.” 

Hannibal considered. “He chose the one that redistributed the power in his favour.” 

“Only if the victim does not want to be touched.” Bedelia said, “You said yourself that he was unsuccessful in assaulting you… But I’m sure that he was putting in the effort.” 

Hannibal smiled again, inclining his heard towards her. “He tried his best.” He admitted. 

“But you wanted him to touch you. You haven’t a care how vicious he was, not really. You only wish he would have left you more… dignity.” 

“If that is true, and Will cares for me as deeply as I do him, that only strengthens my resolve to help him.” 

“And how will you help him, Hannibal?” 

“How would you suggest friends help each other.” Hardly a question, she knew. 

“Friends, or lovers?” She countered. 

“Both, perhaps?” Hannibal replied. 

“With clear and open communication. Compromise. Forgiveness.” 

“I forgive Will.” Hannibal said immediately. 

“And what compromise did you make?” Bedelia asked. She waited, but Hannibal didn’t answer. “Have you been clear with him? Open… with him?” 

“Will knows me better than most.” 

“‘Better’ is hardly the same as clarity.” Again, Hannibal said nothing. “But perhaps the most alarming part of your and Will Graham’s relationship is your inability to give each other space.” 

Hannibal’s eyes glanced down, then back up at her. “‘Stand together, yet not too near together: For the pillars of the temple stand apart, and the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.’” 

“You know the words, but do you agree with the sentiment?” 

“I like Will’s company. I prefer it, in fact.” 

“Of course that is to be expected. But you must explore other relationships. Your obsession with him does not allow for that.” 

“I have many other friends than Will.” 

“But they lack clarity in a way far more severe than Will Graham’s clarity. He alone is allowed to look behind the veil, and even then, only glimpses.” 

“I want him to know me.” 

“Then you must compromise. You must share.” 

Hannibal sighed again. There was a long pause before he said, “And I will.” 

Mathew Brown: 

“And I did wonder… why he wouldn’t.” 

Will Graham looked up from the cage he was sitting in for the last thirty minutes, waiting to be brought to his cell after talking with Jack Crawford. “What?” He asked so quietly that Mathew could barely hear him. 

“I wondered. I wondered why he wouldn’t take a rape kit.” Mathew explained.

Will stared at him. 

“You asked Jack Crawford if he wondered.” Mathew said. “Been perusing your file.” He held it up for Will to see, then set the file down with a careless slap and picked up his sandwich to take a bite. His mouth full, he said, “I wondered why he wouldn’t take a rape kit.” He took a few steps forward and fixed his eyes on Will’s. He was silent. “If someone broke into my house,” Mathew continued, “raped me, tied me up… I’d take a rape kit. Make that guy go away for a lonnng. time.” 

“You would think.” Will said, and Mathew had to strain to hear him. 

“Let you out, Will. You should have run.” 

Will looked at him for a long time as Mathew took another bite. “You left me a gun and everything. Turned off the mics. The cameras.” Will nodded. Mathew smiled. 

“You’re welcome.” He said. “I admire you, you know. I had a whole song and dance planned for your trial.” 

“You can still sing for me.” 

“I think I will.” Mathew replied. “But you gotta do something for me, too.” 

“Tit for tat.” 

“Tell me why Hannibal Lecter.” 

There was a silence so complete, and eye contract so scathing and so sensual that Mathew could clearly see what the fuss was about. When Will Graham played, he played hard. He won you over. He fixed those pretty eyes and didn’t look away. He set that stubbled jaw and did what he had to do. Mathew was pretty sure he would kiss him if Will asked, and that was saying a lot. A lot a lot. 

“He’s a monster.” Will said at last. 

“That’s what people are gonna say about you.” Mathew reminded him. He took another bite of his sandwich, finishing it off. “Even if you were’t a serial killer, raping your therapist?” 

“Allegedly.” 

“Told Chilton you did it.” 

“You can’t rape someone who wants you to screw them.” 

Mathew paused, brushing his hands off, then gave Will a look that scolded playfully. “Making me jealous over here.” 

“It was supposed to be a punishment, I just couldn’t get him to hate it.” Will said casually, standing up to face him. “So I made him pee the bed instead.” 

Mathew had to smile at that. “Did he sing for you?” 

“I’d rather hear you sing.” Will told Mathew in a deep voice, gravelly- masculine. Matthew didn’t usually go for this kind of thing, but this guy knew how to work with what he had. 

“What’s the composition?” Mathew held up the cuffs and Will turned around so he could do the honors. And honors they were. Not in a sexual way, mind. But it was an honor to know and be known, and to have such obvious power over someone so obviously powerful.

“I thought you’d planned something.” Will challenged him.

“I take requests.” Mathew opened the door and led Will out. They walked together, Will in front. 

“I prefer the screams of Hannibal Lecter to music.” Will said as he stepped inside the cell. Mathew closed the door and unlocked the cuffs. 

“Ask and ye shall receive.” 

Will Graham turned to face Mathew and nearly took his breath away when he said, “Kill. Hannibal. Lecter.”


	7. Vide cor Meum

Hannibal woke up covered in sweat and breathing hard. He lay there for a moment staring at the ceiling, but not really seeing it. Then he went for the water on his end table and drank it down in one gulp. That had been… very intense. 

He sat on the edge of the bed, recalling his dream. 

That was the first time he had ever had a dream like that. His dreams, even those of a sensual nature, had always been a mix of color and smells and parts. Pieces of others had been there- lips here, fingers there, thighs placed for his own lips to taste, but the tastes had been rough and sweet all at once and the bodies never revealed a whom, only a what. 

Flowers draped over breasts painted red with something not unlike blood, but not blood all the same- he was aware of that as people often are aware of the unspoken in dreams. Fingers, not his own, or sometimes his own, stoking the keys of a harpsichord, producing a sound so ethereal and majestic that they struck fire in him and he came. A drawing or painting come to life, filling his senses with so many colors that they overloaded in his mind and sprung up into arousal somewhere within him. The gorgeous outline of a penis in his mouth, watching himself from a distance as he brought pleasure or pain at his own whims to the organ, the fragrance of Caron Poivre at his nose and the taste of Sanguinaccio Dolce on his tongue against all odds.

But not faces. The shaved lines of beards, a flow of hair, an eye perhaps, but not bodies. Not people. Parts… pieces… never the whole. 

Until now. 

He thought back on the dream. Will Graham- All of Will Graham- not a piece out of place- touching him. Will’s looking at him in such a way that it was clear that Will’s eyes undressing him in Will’s mind. Will’s beard brushing against his skin as Will’s fingers traveled over his arching need, Will’s lips on his as Will’s feet and legs twined around his own. Will’s chest under his tongue as Will’s erection strained against Hannibal’s stomach in a silent beg to be touched. Will’s hair curling around Will’s forehead and Will’s neck as Will’s voice called out, broken and rasping one moment, commanding and strong the next, guiding him to touch where Will wanted him to touch. 

And it had been confined to time- that was new as well. Usually his dreams jumped from one moment to the next to a moment before to the end. He might orgasm several times in a dream only to wake up and find he hadn’t reached climax at all. But this time he had. 

Will had touched him, then opened him up with Will’s fingers expertly, then taken him until Will climaxed, then sucked him down and ate of his cock until he climaxed as well, and then he had woken up. He looked between the sheets just to be sure, and found evidence of his orgasm. His mind was also flooded with endorphins to signal his pleasure. And never had he had such a realistic dream. Vivid, yes, but not realistic. 

Hannibal was nearly always aware that he was dreaming. This time he hadn’t been aware at all. 

He thought on Will’s figure and face as he went to the toilet to relieve himself. He hadn’t realized it before- how had he not realized?- but Will was attractive to him. His every feature was handsome and Hannibal would have considered it an honor to trace his fingers over Will’s skin and kiss Will’s cheek and feel the burn of Will’s stubble once again. 

The mind was beautiful, yes. The nature, too- a nature that could someday perhaps understand Hannibal’s own. But his body was just as much of a work of art, as if God had sculpted Will for Hannibal’s pleasure. There was physical attraction for the first time in Hannibal’s life, just as there had been aching emptiness at Will’s absence that was entirely new, and interest and mystery for Will’s mind unlike any that another person could have produced. A first time for everything. 

And Will was still on Hannibal’s mind as he showered (Will’s tongue would feel so good in combination with the water) and dressed (How he would love to see Will’s fingers button up a shirt). As he cooked breakfast (Oh, the hum of Will’s voice as he complemented Hannibal’s skill in the kitchen). As he ate (Will’s eyes meeting his own across the table, vulnerable and beautiful and strange) and as he drove to the hospital (Will always wore his glasses when he drove, and somehow he was just as attractive with them on). 

His tablet- his excuse- lay on the seat next to Hannibal, and he picked it up with one hand when he exited the car, buttoning his jacket with his free hand as soon as the door was closed. He had to look presentable, though not for Frederick.

Hannibal stepped through the doors to Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane and, with practiced ease, made his way toward sign-in. However, Frederick was standing there, leaning on his surely useless cane in an infuriatingly smug way. Hannibal had known it was optimistic to a fault to hope that Jack wouldn’t include his doubts in the file, and now Frederick knew that he and Will were intimate. This really wasn’t going his way. 

“Good morning, Frederick.” 

“Good morning. I trust you slept well.” 

So polite for him. Clearly he was enjoying himself immensely. “I did, thank you. How was your night?” 

“Peaceful.” Frederick replied. “I heard what happened.” 

Oh, Frederick, false sympathy, really? You didn’t have to. You could have spared yourself the punishment that will surely follow this act of unkindness- as someday you will grace my table. Hannibal thought, but he said, “I’m not sure what Jack has included in his report.” 

“We don’t need to talk about it.” Frederick said, his expression one of the deepest condolences. 

“May I speak with Will?” 

“Ah, therein lies the issue, I’m afraid. Even if he wants to talk to you, I’m afraid that I can’t allow it. For obvious reasons.” 

“Perhaps the reasons are not as obvious as you seem to think. Please, share them with me.” 

Frederick gave Hannibal a curious look, though suspicious and deeply calculating, before he said, “Hm. Well…” He gestured ahead for Hannibal to go to his office and Hannibal took the invitation. As soon as they were inside, Frederick said, “Will Graham’s attack on you was quite personal, from what I’m told.” 

“And what were you told?” Hannibal asked, inclining his head slightly. 

Frederick hesitated, “Well… I suppose that they don’t have any real proof, but given that Ms. Katz caught him almost in the act… perhaps it’s better if you don’t see Will Graham anymore.” 

Hannibal sighed internally, but, determined to force Frederick to say what he meant, he said, “I’m afraid I’m unsure to what you are referring, Frederick.” 

“Well, let’s not discuss it if you don’t want to. Besides, Will isn’t in his cell.” 

Hannibal gave Frederick a questioning look. 

“He’s in solitary. Not only has he refused therapy, but he’s broken out and ra- ehem, assaulted, a fellow psychiatrist.” Frederick shrugged. “I can’t let it stand, naturally.” 

The implication of the ‘mistake’ not lost on him, Hannibal considered Frederick. Then he said, “I don’t think solitary confinement is in Will’s best interest.” 

“Well, agree to disagree. And I am Will’s sole psychiatrist right now.” 

“Has he refused to see me?” 

“Whether or not he refused wouldn’t have much of a bearing on anything, even if he did refuse to cooperate. Which he doesn’t- not with you, at least.” Frederick stood up from where he’d been resting at his desk and said, “You know, he told Jack Crawford that you agreed to cooperate with the assault.” 

“If one is in a difficult position, it can often be in one’s interest to cooperate, even if the method the other party employs is manipulative, or even cruel.” 

Frederick seemed to take this as a worthy answer, and Hannibal knew that he was re-cataloging “consent” as “coercion” in his mind. So Will had told Jack that Hannibal had cooperated? Perhaps that Hannibal had consented? Interesting. 

In any case, it was unlikely that Frederick was going to allow him to see Will. Obviously this had been all he needed as an excuse to keep them apart, as Frederick had wanted all along. “I suppose then that I must delete my drive.” 

“Sorry?” Frederick asked, clearly confused.

Hannibal gave him a small smile. “While Will was in the house, he changed the password on my tablet. I’m unable to reach any of the information I had stored on it.” 

“I always figured you for a pen on paper man.” 

“Usually, yes. However, I must adopt the practices of the modern age. I’m afraid I relied too heavily on the device.” 

“Would you be willing to leave it with me?” Frederick tried, unwisely. 

Hannibal attempted to hold back his knowing smile, but he might have failed. “I’m afraid not, but if you do happen to ascertain the password, please let me know.” 

No sooner had Hannibal walked out of the hospital than his phone was ringing. The caller ID read “Jack Crawford,” so Hannibal picked it up. “Good morning, Jack.” 

“Hello- Dr. Lecter, would you be able to come to my office today?” 

“I’m afraid I can’t help you with a profile, if that’s what you need. My sincere apologies.” 

“No- I, uh, well, there’s a body. But I won’t ask for your help. I just want to get a statement from you. I’d be happy to come to you, if you want.” 

Hannibal considered. He couldn’t see Will, but perhaps if he saw Jack, he could pull some strings and get Frederick to crack the door open, so he could slip inside. He had no desire to give a statement and couldn’t cooperate with Jack, but if Jack felt it was in both of their best interests to keep seeing each other, he might be able to lean on Frederick… Naturally, Hannibal had to try. “Yes, of course, Jack.” 

When he arrived, Jack motioned Hannibal into his office immediately. “How you holding up, Doctor?” 

“I’m fine.” Hannibal said- much more true sympathy from Jack, after all. “I’m concerned about Will.” 

Jack fixed him with a steady gaze from across his desk. “About Will.” he repeated. 

“Yes. I found out this morning that Frederick Chilton won’t allow me to see him.” 

“Don’t you think that’s best?” 

“I think that Will needs help more than ever.” 

“And I agree.” Jack said, “I’m just not sure you’re the best person to be providing that help.” 

“And you think that Frederick will do everything in his power to provide Will with therapy and resources?” Hannibal asked mildly. 

Jack didn’t answer the question. He stared at Hannibal for a moment as if making up his mind, then said, “I need to know if it was rape or it was consensual.” He folded his hands seriously in front of him. 

Hannibal inclined his head to the right, giving Jack a slight side-eye. “You put me in a difficult position, Jack. If I answer your question, I’m admitting that any contact occurred at all.” 

Jack looked cross for a moment, then he said, “I think we can drop the act in here, Dr. Lecter. Beverly found you tied to the bed full of semen, and I’d be willing to bet that semen belonged to Will Graham.” 

“Do you then think of Will as a rapist?” 

“If it wasn’t consensual. Which he claims it was.” 

“Then I will not refute his claim.” 

“Nor deny it, it seems.” 

“As I said, Jack, you put me in a difficult position with this question.” 

“He broke out to kill you.” 

“I am alive. Do you think I would be so if Will, whom you know was an accomplished and competent killer, had decided that he would end my life?” Hannibal paused for a second, then added, “Unless you do not think that he is one.” 

Jack sat back in his chair, a sign of mental defeat, and shook his head. “I don’t want to believe that Will could do this.” 

“Then don’t believe it. Better to remain blind towards him and look for another killer, than to sacrifice what you have with him.” 

“Is that what you’re doing, Doctor?” Jack asked. 

There was a short pause between them, then Hannibal said, “I will not abandon him in Will’s greatest hour of need.” 

It had been an exhausting day, and Hannibal was glad that Will had cancelled all his appointments for the week so Will could play with him for a few days. Perhaps he should take time off more often than he did. Not up to his usual degree of cooking, he went out to eat with Alana, who avoided the subject of Will Graham as if it would poison their food. 

He was grateful for it. As much as he wanted to discuss Will, he didn’t think Alana would be the person for it. She was upset and lashing out, just like Jack, and Ms. Katz. Only he could understand everything that Will had put him through, and why. Only he could understand Will Graham entirely. 

Then Hannibal returned home and showered. There was something different about the house, though not in a menacing way. For a while he couldn’t place it. Then he realized it was lonely. Much like his his 7:30 appointments, empty. Devoid of the presence of Will Graham. 

Devoid of love. 

Yes, Will could love him. Will could know him. If only he could let go of his so-called morality and embrace his true nature. Hannibal laid in bed, nude as usual, and mulled over the events of the day. He was tired, but his mind refused to deactivate and let him sleep. As he usually did at night, he found himself thinking about Will. 

In his mind’s eye, he ran his fingers over Will’s skin, pausing briefly to bestow extra love in places Will needed it- the old knife wound from his cop days, and the new bullet hole in his shoulder, still raw, but if treated gently, not painful. He kissed down his neck and shoulders and listened to Will moan. 

In the present, Hannibal reached his hand down the covers, taking his hardening cock in hand. He felt a surge of excitement- another first here, fantasizing about a living person whom he knew. Hannibal closed his eyes and began to stroke himself. 

He imagined that he took Will’s cock into his mouth (such a beautiful organ), and sucked gently, making much more noise than was necessary to show Will how much he was enjoying his taste. Will’s hips canted forward, his back arching as he moaned high and sexual- the imagined sound immediately bringing Hannibal to full stiffness. 

Hannibal moaned back, stroking himself harder. 

For some reason, his imagination chose to make Will dig his fingers into Hannibal’s hair and push his head down, fucking himself into Hannibal’s throat. Hannibal didn’t choke, but took the whole of it, letting it rest in his throat. He swallowed and Will’s head was thrown back in pleasure. 

He slowly, pulling and sucking hard with his mouth, slid off of Will’s cock until he let go completely. Will fell back onto the sheets with a satisfied groan, only for Hannibal to devour one of his balls. He felt Will tense again in pleasure and dig his hands into Hannibal’s hair. Hannibal sucked another ball into his mouth so he could have both and Will seized and called out his name. 

Then he slid down and did something he loved to do, for it always drove his lovers out of their minds- he put his tongue at the entrance to Will’s ass and licked. Soon Will was bucking into his tongue, saying “Hannibal, Hannibal, Hannibal-” in a kind of beg. Hannibal thrust his tongue into Will again and again, then pulled it out and massaged it around the tight muscles there. Will gradually lost control, moaning and thrashing on the bed in pleasure. 

Hannibal’s own ass contracted at the thought, and suddenly he desperately wanted Will to fill him. Seeking to imitate this, Hannibal wet two fingers in his mouth and pushed them inside of himself. The sting was there, but it just wasn’t the same. He tried three, four, but he couldn’t copy the feeling. Will’s cock had a lovely mushroom head at the tip- his fingers were thinner there. Will’s cock could penetrate him much deeper. And of course, Will’s cock was thicker than three fingers, but rounder than four. These things were essential to the feeling he was seeking. Not to mention the pain… pairing with Will’s taste like a fine wine. 

Hannibal stroked himself again, trying to focus on his fantasy of making Will writhe beneath him, but when he came, it wasn’t as satisfying as he’d hoped. He needed a cock to pleasure himself as Will had done. He needed Will’s cock. 

The next morning Hannibal made a simple breakfast and rushed through it much more than usual, though the argument could be made that since Will was on his mind so intensely, eating slower might not have made a difference in how much he enjoyed the flavors. Not exactly a first, but rare. Rare indeed. 

It was his usual day off, meaning he would have to resume therapy the next day, so he needed to make the most of what he had today. He booted up his tablet and signed in a guest. He didn’t need the information he kept on it for this. Then he went to Amazon and, not sure exactly what to search for, typed the word “dildo” into the search bar. 

Only half of what came up could be considered dildos to begin with, but he had to admit he hadn’t thought of a vibrator until now. It would be a while before he could get Will out of the mental institution, so it might be worthwhile to invest in a good surrogate. He didn’t think that Will was quite ready to be released either. Perhaps a little more time to accept his hatred for the short term, let himself feel out his true nature before they could meet again. Then the set up for getting him out…. something of quality was certainly necessary. He did a google search to look up specifics and tried again. 

He quickly found that anal vibrators came in shapes meant to maximize pleasure. Sensible, but not what he was looking for. “Realistic vibrator” made for better search options, but the issue was still in the head of the device. All of these vibrators had the same shape, not at all like the large mushroom at Will’s tip. 

He tried mushroom tip vibrator into amazon and got nothing, and finally switched to google. Probably an online sex shop would have more variety- he wasn’t wrong. The presence of the clitoris stimulator indicated they were for women, though. He would need a different design. 

One site- surely Asian- had censorship over the head of each dildo, rendering it completely useless to search through. Many of the sites had a variety of vibrators of excellent quality: for women. Never had Hannibal had to search so hard for something on the internet. Apparently it was assumed that women wanted a shape just like a member (he doubted very much that this was true), but that men would want something suited to their anal cavity (he himself proved there was a market for penis-shaped anal vibrators). 

Eventually he realized he would have to settle for a regular dildo, which was still difficult to find. At last he chose and purchased one, though it was thicker at the bottom than he had wanted and probably shorter. In typing in “custom dildos” he had found that he could make his own, but he had already spent too much time on what he felt should have been a simple task, and at least this one had the mushroom head that he so craved and that many advertisements had claimed their dildos had. They… hadn’t. 

He would make do, then see about getting a custom one made.

Next, he would need to check up on Abigail. Thankfully she hadn’t been at the house at the time of Will’s “reckoning.” But now he needed to bring her back for a few days at least. Show her he hadn’t forgotten about her. Things had simply been hectic, to say the least. He cleared his search history so she wouldn’t see anything untoward if he chose to do a search in front of her, and then packed a few things. Feeling a bit hungry already, he began the long drive to his cliffside vacation home. 

Surely she had heard him driving up, for she greeted him in the driveway with a blue scarf and a small smile. “Hello, Abigail.” He said as he got out of the car. He invited her for a hug and she gave him one. 

“I didn’t see you last weekend.” She accused when they broke apart. He gave her a knowing smile as he handed her some bags of fresh groceries from the markets on the way.

“I missed you as well.” He said, without explanation, and they headed inside. 

“Why?” She dared to ask, though more curiously than aggressively. 

He silently admired her spunk, then said, “I had an unexpected visitor last Thursday night. It was impossible to excuse myself until long after Friday, and here we are. I’m sorry to keep you waiting. You still have plenty of food?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” She said, but her arms were crossed. Not rude, but a bit defensive, a bit abandoned. 

“Then I will make it up to you with a lovely lunch. I’m starving.” 

She laughed a little. “Can I help?” She asked, and he put her to work cutting vegetables and fresh spices from the organic fruits and vegetables market an hour’s drive from there. 

“Have you been very bored?” 

“I finished all the books you left.” 

“Good. You’ll have more books.” 

“And I learned that piano piece you taught me.” 

“Excellent. Show me after lunch?” 

“Sure.” 

“It will sound infinitely better on the harpsichord.” 

She laughed a little, shaking her head as she looked down at the tomato she was cutting for a Greek style salad.  
“Did you practice yoga daily?” 

“Yep. Like you said.” 

“Excellent.” He gave her a fond smile. “O ar tu praktikavai?”

She blushed wildly, but tried. “Taip, žinoma” He corrected her pronunciation and she repeated it. Then, quietly, hesitantly, she said. “Aš negaliu mokytis nuo knygos. Right?”  
  
“Aš negaliu mokytis iš knygos.” Hannibal said. Then, “It will be more difficult to speak. Your pronunciation needs work, but I can see you are studying hard. I will practice with you more.”

“Today?” 

“Every day. You can come back with me to Baltimore today.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes. Let’s eat, shall we?” 

They put everything on the table and Hannibal and Abigail sat down. “How’s Will?” She asked, picking up her fork. 

“He’s doing better. Much better.” Hannibal replied. He took a bite.


	8. The Merck Manual of Diagnosis and Therapy

Will had waited with baited breath for any news of Hannibal. And as he stared at the wall, looking at his sink, his thoughts obsessively straying to Hannibal once more, he watched the water pool there and turn darker, darker…. blood. He blinked. 

He hadn’t taken his meds in the few days that he’d been with Hannibal and they had to start him on a different antibiotic when he came back. He wondered briefly if this was a relapse of his encephalitis due to the break. 

The blood pooled and began to overflow. Will continued to stare as it dripped on the floor.

He thought he’d feel joy, elation, as he was freed from Hannibal, as if he were a kite and Matthew Brown was cutting the string that Hannibal held in his hand, controlling or limiting his movements to what Hannibal allowed. But as the blood made it’s pit- pit- pit against the stone, all he could feel was loss and uncertainty. 

Maybe his mind was exaggerating. Maybe Hannibal was still alive. Maybe Will hadn’t spilled his blood yet. He stood. “Orderly?” He called. No response. “Orderly!” He said louder. 

There was a shuffling, and a guard came in. “Quiet, Graham.” 

“Where’s the orderly?” Will asked. 

“Off duty. You’re stuck with me. What do you want?” 

Will turned away and faced the sink. It was empty. Of course it was empty, why would it be full? Naturally it wasn’t real. Not real. Will shook his head.   
He heard the guard scoff and shuffle off. 

Maybe it was just a symptom of the encephalitis. It didn’t have to be a metaphor.

But no. It was. He knew it was. 

________________

Will didn’t sleep. 

_______________

Will was sitting in his cell already awake when the guards took him to the cage. He had been reflecting the whole night and unanswered questions were swarming in his head so violently that he didn’t even notice the change over until Jack came up and he realized he wasn’t in his cell. 

He looked at Jack’s measured steps for a moment, then said, “You’re walking smoothly and slowly, Jack. Carrying your concentration like a brimming cup.” 

“Hannibal Lector was almost murdered. By an employee of this hospital. If Alana hadn’t figured it out, he might be dead right now. I guess we know how you escaped.” 

“And I guess he didn’t turn the mics off, as he’d said.” 

“He turned them off. Frederick had Gideon transferred here last night. He was listening in on your chat with Brown.” 

Will cast his eyes downward, scolding himself silently for the relief that had washed through him at the word ‘almost.’ He should have been happy. He should have been thrilled, in fact. He’d asked for Brown to do this, hadn’t he? “Seems unrelated.” Will said out loud. 

Jack took a turn around the cage- why did people do that? He wasn’t a zoo animal. “Unrelated? You told him to kill Hannibal.” 

“Nothing I said made Brown try to kill Hannibal.” Will said. 

“That’s not the way Gideon tells it.” 

“I can’t take responsibility for Abel Gideon.” Will paused. “And you can’t take responsibility for me, can you, Jack? But you can take responsibility for Hannibal.” 

“Hannibal Lector is not the Chesapeake Ripper.” Jack replied immediately. “We tested his food.” 

“Then there’s a second location- a source I didn’t discover. He’s keeping them somewhere.” 

“Have you ever stopped to consider that he might just be innocent?” 

Will pushed back on the sudden need to slam his hands against the bars. “No.” He said, with a calm he didn’t feel. “Do you hear me, Jack? We probably sipped wine while swallowing the people to whom we’re trying to bring justice.” 

“From where I’m standing, you’re the guilty one.” Jack said, almost with a shrug. “That’s twice now you’ve gone out of your way to hurt Hannibal.” 

“There is a common emotion we all recognize and have not yet named—the happy anticipation of being able to feel contempt.” 

“So you feel contempt for Hannibal?” 

“I feel contempt for the Chesapeake Ripper, and I feel contempt for what he does.” 

“But not for what you do.” Jack verified. He finished his turn of the cage and fixed Will with a deep stare. 

“For what I’ve done? I feel only vindication.” Will lied. 

Jack didn’t question him, though: didn’t see through his facade. He instead shook his head and turned away. 

_______

Chilton came to harass him for a while with tests after Jack left. Then Will was allowed back to his cell, where he stared at the wall unseeing for a while, looking instead at the flow of the river as he cast his line. 

Then he sat on his bed. Then he laid down. Then, with Hannibal’s survival in his mind, he was able to sleep. 

________

Will opened his eyes and saw Hannibal there, smiling back at him. He blinked a few times. “Were you watching me sleep?” he asked groggily, and a little judgementally. 

Hannibal spared him a wider smile, almost parting his lips, which Will had yet to see him do; smile with teeth. “Yes.” He said, unabashed by Will’s tone. “I was monitoring your heartbeat.” 

Will looked down and saw that his wrist was still in Hannibal’s clasped fingers. He didn’t pull away. “Ripe for the picking?” He asked. 

Hannibal breathed deep and let out a contented sigh. “As delicious as I’m sure you would taste, Will, I can’t bring myself to eat you. I think your flesh would turn to ash in my mouth with the regret of it.” 

“What would you eat first?” 

“Your brain. Or your heart.” He paused, “Or your blood.” 

“Metaphors for the things you like about me.” 

“Love.” Hannibal corrected, strangely kind for it’s matter-of-fact tone. 

“What kind of love is that, Hannibal?” Will challenged. 

“You tell me. You close your eyes to be here, after all. You close your eyes to see me.” 

“Shirtless…” Will noted with a whisper. 

“Not just shirtless.” 

“Naked.” 

“More metaphors.” Hannibal told him.

Will regarded Hannibal’s lips. “Not for everything … that I like about you.” 

“What would you eat?” 

“Oh, I would consume what you would consume- but not for the same reasons.” 

“Must I guess your intentions, Will?”

“Must I guess yours?” Will said, looking hard into Hannibal’s eyes.

Hannibal smiled again, then sobered. “You took what you wished as punishment, Will. I would very much like to know… what have you discovered.” 

“You mean… other then… what I made clear?” 

“Sexuality and Romance are different things. So are Sexuality and Emotion.” 

“What did you discover?” Will asked, as was his norm, to push the question back onto Hannibal. 

“Romance. And Emotion. And Sexuality.” Hannibal answered. He let go of Will’s wrist to cup his fingers, over his ear, and at the thought, Will felt rage rise unbidden inside of him.

“I discovered Emotion. I discovered hate.” 

“Hate. But not hate alone.” 

“I can’t feel whatever it is I want to feel with you, Hannibal.” 

“But you cannot stop yourself from feeling it either.” 

“Anything you had to offer, you took it off the table the moment you killed Abigail.” Will said, tears threatening his eyes. He blinked them back.

“If I’ve nothing to offer, then why here? Why seek out this domain?” 

“To slay the dragon.” Will said, his brow creasing, not sure if he was joking or not. 

“Dragons breathe fire, Will. Perhaps you are planning on playing with it.” 

“Just hoping to put it out.” 

“Then put it out, and be done with it. There’s no need get burned in the process. As I recall, you had many chances to smother it while it was still small. Now it threatens to consume you along with the house.” 

Will hesitated for a long moment before he answered. “Maybe I’d like to be consumed.” He admitted, here in dreams, where he had run to hide from this very moment. 

Hannibal’s lips twitched at the joke, and Will found himself returning the smile, even offering a little chuckle. “You could be consumed. Or you could be the one doing the consuming.” Hannibal said, “I am curious which you would choose, in the end.” 

“I feel like we might be talking about different things.” 

“Or various things.” 

“So you are making an innuendo.” 

“And several metaphors. How could I admit to a more literal translation- you know I can’t.” Hannibal said, inclining his head toward Will. 

Will fought the onslaught of emotion at these words. “Why did it have to be this way?” He asked. Hannibal didn’t answer. “Why did you have to do this? We could have been together. All you had to do was court me properly… but you had to be…” Then, frustration and anger creeping into every syllable, “curious.” 

“Do you ask the wolf why it savages the sheep? Or the snake why it strikes out with poison against it’s enemies?” 

“Or the scorpion why it stings the frog?” Will retaliated. 

“It is in my nature.” Hannibal replied, latching onto this new metaphor just as easily. 

“Then how can I ask you not to sting me again, Hannibal?” 

“Perhaps you can’t.” Hannibal leaned forward slowly. Will closed his eyes to receive the gift of his kiss. Hannibal’s lips were soft and the tickle of the strand of his hair that fell into Will’s face was sweet in combination.

When they parted, Will whispered, “You follow… so many trains of thought at once, without… distraction.. from any. And one of those trains… is always for your own amusement. You’re… always… playing with me.” 

“Yet you are here, reassuring yourself that you could still love me.” 

Will swallowed, his expression one of devastation as the word was dragged from his throat. “Yes.” 

_____________

It had been a long time since Hannibal had felt this kind of frustration. The reasons were various, though some of them petty. For example, the sex toy he had ordered had proved to be extremely disappointing (he’d sent a drawing with exact specifications to a custom developer and hoped to be receiving it shortly). Others were not so petty.

He was a witness for the prosecution at Will’s trial, but Hannibal was happy to know that he was very little use to her. She asked about the events of the kidnapping several times, but Hannibal kept his answers short and vague, relying on the diagnosis of the encephalitis as an explanation for the violence and neither confirming nor denying other allegations. Needless to say it wasn’t what they had rehearsed. He could see his own frustrations mirrored in her eyes. After Jack Crawford spoke of pushing Will to the brink of insanity with his actions, this must be the icing on the cake. 

Mr. Brower cross-examined Hannibal next, to which he was somewhat overly-cooperative, perhaps. He didn’t allow him to lead him, but shared his part- his inability to diagnose Will or to consider his innocence- openly in his testimony. Alana made no attempt to disguise her discomfort with this, but Jack’s eyes were lowered to the ground, sharing Hannibal’s guilt silently. As he sat and gave his piece, he looked directly at Will, talking of friendship and forgiveness- the only way he could let Will know how he felt, since he wouldn’t be allowed to see him. 

Will’s expression didn’t change at all as he looked at Hannibal, seemingly detached from the experience. Perhaps, Hannibal considered, this was Will’s method of coping with the stress of the trial. Perhaps he was somewhere in his mind palace, hiding away. 

He knew Will felt something. After all, Will had shown Hannibal his hand when he’d taken Hannibal, and shed tears. When he’d sent someone else to kill him, because he’d had all the opportunities that he could want, and still hadn’t been able to kill Hannibal himself. 

Abigail had been very concerned when Hannibal had gone up to her room to check on her after his visit to the hospital curtesy of Mathew Brown. He was bloody and late (not just for dinner, but for everything they had planned). He had apologised to her profusely for breaking his word- he’d told her they would practice harpsichord and cook dinner together, then have an hour of Lithuanian conversation. She wasn’t allowed to leave the room without him: she must be starving. But she pushed all that aside along with the anger that had been clear in her defensive posture when she saw the stitches in his arms. 

At her behest he’d told Abigail what had happened- everything- even that it was suspected that Will had sent Mathew Brown to kill him. “Aren’t you angry?” She’d asked, her arms crossed. 

“No.” 

“This is the second time you broke your promises. What happened the first time?” 

“Similar situations.” Hannibal had admitted with a slight smile. Clever girl. 

“Then why?” 

Hannibal had sighed, gestured for Abigail to sit across from him, like therapist and patient. He had leaned forward in his chair, his hands folded before him, and addressed her. “Abigail, you must allow others their feelings, but especially if you care for them.” 

“He’s trying to kill you, you know.” She had said, not without sympathy. 

“As revenge. For you. Would I not do the same if I thought he had taken you from this world?” 

Her expression had said, ‘would you?’ but she had chosen not to voice it, instead saying, “He wants to help me. Even in death. Even knowing who I am.” Her gaze had focused somewhere behind him and Hannibal had let her stare into the distance, thinking. 

“He loves you as a daughter, Abigail. As he is your father.” Hannibal had said at last. Her eyes had focused on him again and she’d swallowed. 

“He feels bad for killing mine.” Her tone was neutral, but her expression betrayed her own guilt. 

“Yes.” Hannibal had concluded. “But that doesn’t make his affection for you less genuine.” 

“And yours?” 

Hannibal had smiled at her sweetly. “Our affection…” he corrected, “for you less genuine.” 

She’d laughed a little at this, and said, “I meant your’s for Will.” Then she’d looked down at her own folded hands as if she wasn’t sure how he would take the question.

“I feel a great affection for Will- more than I have felt for any man I’ve been with.” 

Abigail had looked back up at him, confused. Hannibal had watched as she put two and two together and realization graced her pretty face. She’d hesitated, then said, “We’re? …..A family.” 

“Yes.” Hannibal had whispered. He’d stood up. “That is why we must forgive Will. It’s what family does. Now, if you’re hungry still, we should get you something simple to eat, as it’s so late.” 

So she’d nodded and followed him out of the door. 

The trial had followed a few days later. The last date had been missed, and there was new evidence to consider, albeit not in Will’s favour. 

Will seemed justifiably unhappy with his defence plea- insanity? Hannibal scoffed at that inwardly. He could never care for an insane man as he cared for Will. He didn’t need someone so dependant on him. 

And Will was anything but dependant. His encephalitis on the mend, he’d begun to show his true colors. A caterpillar still, but soon to be an imago: already on his way to becoming, his fire and passion that he’d hidden for so long from himself and from the world at last blazing out. It would deliver upon those who Will deemed unworthy a… a reckoning. Hannibal grinned when he thought of this, then sipped from his glass of wine. 

But the week was still to reveal frustrations. The next day, Bedelia had come to his office to end their arrangement as psychiatrist and patient. She’d vanished that night and, despite her gift of perfume, he felt he’d missed out on a fine meal. Beverly informed him the day after that Bedelia had payed a visit to Will. Surely not a coincidence. Hannibal wondered what she had revealed to him. 

Jack had, of course, discovered a certain amount of mistrust in Hannibal since he’d refused his rape kit. Then there was the incident with Bella. It may have killed the last ounce of true faith that Jack had in him yesterday when she had come to him after taking her medicine at once, intent on the suicide they had discussed before. Hannibal had wondered for a moment what he should do- let her die, for her? Save her, for Jack? He flipped a coin on it. Tails up. Thus he let her rest in peace. 

Jack had been heartbroken. Angry. Not just with her, but with Hannibal. A natural reaction, though a selfish one. He should be happy that Bella was allowed to choose her own way, not hold it against her. But Hannibal could understand how his distress would blind him to closure, at least for a while. 

There were some silver linings to the last few weeks, of course. Hannibal got to play Will Graham at crime scenes. Despite the team giving him looks of sympathy every once in a while (or seething with anger at Will’s behaviour, in Beverly’s case,) it was interesting to see into his mind. It was the only way he felt close to Will, now. 

Through this he had found another killer and convinced him to become part of his already quiet stunning work. Hannibal was glad he had first viewed the display from the top of the water tank, which was the prime view for such a piece. A gorgeous work, to be sure. 

But even this had it’s frustrations. The FBI had later found the work on Hannibal’s tip, and missed entirely that the artist was apart of it now. He’d asked Jack about the view, and known from his reaction that he did not see the beauty that Hannibal saw. That Will would have seen. 

Yes. Will would have seen his design, he knew. Will would have understood. 

But the most frustrating element, easily, was that Frederick still denied him his right to see Will. So strained was Hannibal for Will’s affection that the sight of him in court had given him a leap of remarkable need that could not be fulfilled in his various fantasies of Will, no matter how sexual, mindful, or intelligent he made them. He needed to see Will, stand close to him. He wanted to smell his scent and taste his breath. Even thinking about Will would light his imagination and body on fire. 

And only he could set him free. 

But these things took time, and Hannibal was finally finished with his first piece- a pig grown into a tree, it’s branches taking sustenance from him to bloom into something much more brilliant and stunning than his life had been. An empty husk turned to life, like flowers growing from the skull of a dead beast. 

He took the organs, most of them this time, and replaced them with flowers of a toxic nature. Ragwort for the liver, Belladonna for the heart, a chain of Oleander for the intestines. But not the lungs. He left the lungs. 

A trail of crumbs for dear Jack to follow, and at the end, his beloved trainee would wait for rescue. Jack would surely search high and low within the radius that the water in the lungs would certainly lead to, and then they would find Mirium Lass and the trial would turn to Will’s favour in the aftermath of Chilton’s fall from grace. 

He couldn’t wait to see Will again. 

_______

Will was surprised to pass Abel Gideon on his way to his cell. He was stranding at the door and greeted Will rather cheerfully through the bars, for someone who’d been shot by him before. Will wasn’t sure why he would be shocked by this: obviously with everything he’d been telling Chilton, Frederick would want to confirm some things. 

Will paused until the new orderly had left and then hesitated some more. It wasn’t as if Frederick wouldn’t be listening. Gideon said nothing, but Will could sense he was waiting on the other side for Will to make a move. 

“You didn’t let him die.” Will said, sitting down and leaning against the wall where he suspected Abel Gideon was leaning on the other side. 

“Strange… that you used the word ‘didn’t.’ Almost as if you think I shouldn’t necessarily have.” 

“Suppose that depends who you are.” Will mumbled. On the other side of the wall, Abel raised both eyebrows in amusement. Then, Will said, “He’s gonna kill you, you know.” 

“Can’t get me in here.” Abel teased. 

“Here is exactly where he’ll get you, Abel.” Will said. “I’d be very nervous if I was Dr. Chilton. He’s getting too close, too.” 

“Close to you? Or close to the Ripper?” 

Will wasn’t about to admit that the lines between these two men were so blurred together now that he didn’t know the answer, even to himself, much less Abel Gideon. He changed the subject. “Frederick got in your head. I’m surprised you’re still talking to him.” 

“Oh, he’s not getting much, other than the conversation you and I are having now.” 

Will struggled with his thoughts for a moment, unsure if he wanted to tell Gideon to confess what he had recently remembered or to keep it under wraps. It gave him a headache going around in circles like this: Abigail or Hannibal? Abigail or Hannibal? “Have you told him about that night?” He asked. 

“You’ll have to be more specific…” 

Will’s brow furrowed, but he played along. “The night. I shot you.” He said. 

“Not much, really. Beyond the official story.” 

“Is there another story to be had?” 

“I guess you would know better than I did. I’m delusional, remember?” Will said, with equal parts venom and sarcasm. 

“And I’m insane.” 

“Then neither one of us could be trusted.” 

Gideon chuckled. “Oh, there’s another story.” he said. 

“Tell me.” Will said. 

“You’re not even gonna drop me a hint, Mr. Graham? It might not be the fairytale you intended to hear.” 

“No hints.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t help you. You and I… we might have our own agendas, mightn't we?” 

“That’s why you should tell me now. Get your story straight, on the record. Then stick to it.” 

“Do you mean the story where I sat in Hannibal Lecter's cobalt blue dining room with an ostentatious herb garden, Leda and the Swan over the fireplace? And you, having a fit in the corner. And that's where I asked him if he was the Chesapeake Ripper, and he avoided the question and suggested instead that I kill Alana Bloom.” A pause. “That story?”

“That’s the story.” Will said. “That’s the truth.” He re-iterated, for Jack’s benefit, when Frederick played him the tape, as he certainly would. 

“I tried to save a severely-burned patient once with grafts of someone else's skin. That skin seemed to agree with the man.” Abel told him. “For a few days. And then it withered and died.” 

“Wanting to kill Hannibal Lecter is just a phase?” Will asked him. “Permanent solution to a temporary problem?”

“Wearing someone else's skin doesn’t always work. Our immune system recognizes it as foreign,” He made a sound that Will interpreted as drawing his finger over his throat, then said, matter-of-factly, “kills it. I know what you really mean to say, Mr. Graham. You wish I’d do what you can’t.” 

“As long as you tell the story.” Will said, resting his head back against the wall. 

“Oh, I said there was another story.” Gideon replied. “Didn’t say who’s story it was.”


	9. Piangerò la sorte mia

It was incredible to Hannibal that Jack had managed to make it into a position such as his own without the tenacity and hard work that Hannibal associated with, for instance, looking for a person within a relatively small radius. Of course Hannibal would have never said that out loud- that would be impolite- but seeing as the building she was in was on government property and condemned, it wouldn’t have been a stretch for him to find her. 

According to him, he wasn’t looking. Incredible. 

“He wouldn’t be hiding anywhere we could find him,” Jack said. Hannibal agreed, of course. 

“You may find some evidence.” He suggested. 

“If we had a narrower field, but as it stands…” 

“Understandable.” Hannibal replied, but in all honesty, it was because he couldn’t drop anymore hints. Not as Hannibal Lecter, previous surgeon and current psychiatrist. The Ripper needed to drop the hints.

Interestingly, though, Jack hadn’t told him exactly where they were looking. Hannibal was sure he would try to trap him in convenient knowledge of it later. Clever Jack. This tactic often worked, after all. But it wouldn’t work on him. No, Jack was quiet out of luck there. 

Given that they had tested the contents of his refrigerator already, there was nothing to be done, he thought. Or had, until Jack showed up at his dinner party and whisked some food away. 

Alana was none too happy right up until the point where he bid her farewell. But no matter. He would find his own way out of the tight spot he and Will had manoeuvred themselves into. 

————

Hannibal had done a great deal of careful schooling of his features as a youth, and it was benefitting him wonderfully at the moment. Jack was practically scolding Chilton, and he couldn’t let show how delighted he was about that. 

Inside the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, strung up with various hand-made fly fishing lures, was one of the guards. 

“You have a real issue,” Jack was saying slowly, “with cameras in this building, Dr. Chilton.” 

“I- well, if people are turning them off…” Frederick stammered. 

“What we got here,” Beverly said to Hannibal, pointing at the lure nearest to her, “is a piece of bark,” Yes, freshly-peeled madrone bark- for Jack to find his little warehouse in Somerville- thought Hannibal, “A tooth,” From Marisa Shore, yes “and… some hair.” That one was Abigail’s, fresh from her head. 

Yes, the Ripper would claim all his victims. Hannibal looked at Frederick, who was giving him furtive looks every now and then. He leaned in to whisper to Jack, and Jack glanced back at Hannibal, who was now looking away, but paying attention, and then he heard Jack say, “Too. Bad.” 

“After everything that Abel Gideon said yesterday, and now the cameras are magically off again. Seems weird.” Beverly said in a low voice, but not a whisper. 

Hannibal cocked his head. She sighed and put down her tools to explain. “Gideon reported to Jack that Chilton had been psychic driving with him again, this time telling him the details of your living room. He’s insane but… don’t you think it’s weird?” 

“Indeed I do.” Hannibal said. “Why didn’t Jack tell me this?” 

“He’s angry. I mean, who wouldn’t be?” 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save Bella.” 

“I get it.” Beverly shrugged. “Even if you could, would you have?” Hannibal didn’t answer, but Beverly didn’t seem to need him to. “I wouldn’t have.” 

“Even for Jack?” 

She looked up at him. “No. It’s not his choice to make.” Then she returned to her work. 

Hannibal allowed himself an imperceptible smile. 

Jack joined them a moment later. “What do you see, Doctor?” He asked, keeping all manner of emotion from his voice. 

Hannibal sighed softly, then begun. “There’s a lot of evidence here, Jack. Hair, bone, flesh- the killer took his time with this one.”

“He may have been planning it for some weeks.” Beverly interjected.

“I would be surprised if he hadn’t.” Hannibal remarked. “For Will, tying these would be child’s play. For a novice, it could be very time-consuming indeed.” It hadn’t been. 

“Is it the Ripper?” Jack asked him, and Hannibal got the sense that he knew the answer. He should, after all. 

“Almost surely. The surgical precision here,” Hannibal said, pointing to the man’s removed heart, “matches the other victims of the Ripper.” 

Jack nodded once and then told Hannibal that he was free to go and he would walk him out. As they walked to the exit, he said, “Where were you last night, Dr. Lecter?” 

Hannibal didn’t bother to feign surprise. “I was at home.” 

“Is there anyone who can confirm that?” 

Only Abigail, of course, but she had been asleep in any case. “I was alone.” He said. Jack stopped at the entrance, so Hannibal stopped with him and they faced each other. “If you still suspect me, Jack, why invite me to a crime scene?” 

“I didn’t say I suspected you.” 

“Why else ask my whereabouts?” Hannibal said, “You accuse me of nothing, but hint that I might not be trustworthy. It’s difficult to accept.” 

“You’ve been accused. I have to consider every angle.” 

“Was the evidence you gathered last night not convincing enough for you?” 

Jack hesitated, then, apparently throwing caution to the wind, admitted, “The labs haven’t come back yet on those. Price is working on it.” 

Hannibal nodded once with a blink, then said, “I hope it helps you. I regret that you did not get a chance to taste the Wagyu Beef Roulade.” 

Jack gave him a look, then said, “Thank you for coming. If you come to the lab after work, we should have some answers.”

“I’m sure I know the answers.” 

“I meant to the Ripper murder, Dr. Lecter. There’s a lot of evidence there.” 

“Of course.” Considering himself dismissed, Hannibal went back to his car. 

____

So it was that after his last appointment of the day, Hannibal took the time to drive out to Virginia. When he arrived, Beverly greeted him at the door. “We found a lot.” 

“Naturally.” Hannibal said. “But nothing that will identify the Ripper, I’m sure.” 

“I don’t know about that.” Beverly replied cryptically. They stopped by Jack’s office to bring him out, then joined Zeller and Price by the tables they had assembled. Hannibal didn’t inquire about his food labs in the meantime, but he could see them set up a way’s back. 

Z said, “The Ripper has been tying flies with people, just like Will Graham allegedly did. Hair woven into the monofilament is Abigail Hobb’s, bone fragments are from Miriam Lass.” Z and Price continued to name victims contained in each of the lures. 

Hannibal bent over to study the lures like the ones he had used for Will’s framing. “These could not have been taken from Will’s house?” 

“Well…” Price said with a thoughtful look, “Occam’s Razor.” 

“We’ve took all of them anyway.” Beverly said. 

“I mean, the Ripper would have at least had to know that Will Graham was also a serial killer.” Price followed up. 

“And taken them before we went there.” Z said. 

“Right, and taken them, specifically before we arrested him.” Price said. 

“That’s what I meant.” Z told him and Price shrugged. 

Hannibal made a sound of agreement, ignoring their antics, thought usually they would have amused him. 

“So uh… what about Graham?” Zeller asked, clearly uncomfortable with the shift this was taking. 

“Cameras in his cell were on.” Beverly said. 

“Will didn’t kill any of these people.” Jack said. “There was no copycat. Never was. It was always the Ripper. Finally taking credit for all his murders.” 

Z had been looking down at the table, but now he looked up. “Well, maybe too much credit.” 

Beverly held up the bark. “Madrona bark.” She said. “It’s almost extinct out here, but this one is recently peeled.” 

Jack held up his hand for Beverly to stop, to which she looked confused. He faced Hannibal, “Isn’t there a farm for Madrona bark near our search area?” 

Sloppy, Jack. No one in the room fell for it- Beverly was almost sighing with how badly handled it was- so why would Hannibal Lecter be tricked? “I’m unsure of the parameters. There isn’t one in Baltimore, to my knowledge.” 

“I told you this morning.” Jack said. 

“I’m afraid I must have forgotten. It’s been a busy day, Jack.” 

There was but a second of awkward silence before Jack said, “Did you find one?” to Beverly. 

She nodded, and, trying to put the awful attempt behind her, said. “Inside the diatom search area.” 

Z pulled it up on the computer and they glanced over it. Clearly just one building. They had found it at last.

“Why would the Ripper leave evidence now?” Beverly asked, clearly unconvinced that they were lucky. 

“I doubt it’s a coincidence. Perhaps even a trap.” Hannibal said, “A better question might be why the Ripper has decided to change course.”

“Maybe the sensationalism of Will’s trial is affecting him.” Jack hypothesised. 

“Probably.” Hannibal replied. “In equal parts, he wants to be known, and hidden.”

“The Ripper had to frame Will to get him in the cell.” Beverly pointed out, apparently not realizing that that had been Hannibal’s point as well. 

“He had to feel the sting of Will’s fame to know he wanted it for himself.” Hannibal provided.

“Well he definitely wants us to know that he is still out there now.” Beverly said, crossing her arms. Hannibal didn’t miss the tiny glance she gave him. 

“But not for the benefit of Will Graham.” Hannibal told her.

“Because he can’t stand that he’s not getting the credit anymore.” Price added. “Cocky son of a bitch.” 

“Good work everyone. Go home.” Jack said abruptly. His team followed without hesitation, Beverly already stripping off her gloves. 

As they filed out, Hannibal turned to Jack. “You’re going now, aren’t you? 

“I’m going home.” 

“This could be a trap, Jack. I urge you to wait until the morning.” 

“I’m going home.” Jack reiterated. 

“Very well.” Hannibal said. He turned and walked out of the door, only to catch Beverly in the hallway. 

“He’s going now, isn’t he?” She asked without prompting. Hannibal noticed she had already gathered her essential items. 

“I think so.” Hannibal replied. 

“I’ll follow him.” 

“I appreciate that, Beverly. But make sure you’re not spotted. It may not be appropriate for me to say this… but I need to relay this thought for your own protection. Jack might not be in the best frame of mind just now.” 

Beverly smiled at his polite words. “You don’t need to phrase everything so nicely, Dr. Lecter.” 

They smiled at each other for a moment. “Tonight, protect Jack. Tomorrow, come to dinner. Seven thirty.” He said. 

Her smile broadened. “I’d love to.” She said. Then she went off after Jack. 

____

As sure as Hannibal was of Miriam Lass’s rescue, he didn’t hear from Jack the next day. Alana called him around noon to chat over their respective lunch breaks, but other than that, it was him and his patients. And at last, for dinner, Beverly. 

The first thing she said when she came in and handed him her coat was, “Jack’s fine.” She nodded a little to the left, then said, “Well, as fine as he could be. Jack’s not… physically hurt.” 

“I’m glad to hear it.” 

“I would have called sooner, but I just realized I don’t have your number.” 

“We had precious little time for plans last night.” He reminded her. “I will give you my card, for the future.” 

“Thanks.” Beverly said. 

Hannibal sat Beverly at the table and returned with plates. “Braised Lamb Shoulder with Rose, Turnips, and Pistachios.” 

“Wow.” She said, looking impressed. 

“I hope you’re not averse to lamb?” 

“No, I love it.” They began to eat. 

“May I ask what you and Jack happened across? Was there any evidence?” 

“I’d say, a wealth of it.” Beverly said. “Nothing he didn’t want us to discover.” 

“I’m sure.” Hannibal agreed. 

“This is so good.” 

He smiled at her. 

Beverly continued, “Further proof of Will’s innocence, I guess. Frankly we don’t really have a reason to hold him.” she added as an afterthought. 

“I should have considered Will’s innocence sooner.” 

“You said that at the trail but… I don’t get it. It was way too early for you to know he was innocent, right?” 

“I’ve known he was innocent since he came here last.” Hannibal told her. 

She paused for a long moment to eat. It was silent. “Why didn’t you press charges?” Beverly asked unexpectedly, looking at Hannibal. 

Hannibal gave her a shy glance, for him, at the floor, then back up. “I didn’t want anyone to know.” 

“Know what? That you were raped? You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“To know that we were lovers.” 

Beverly stared at him for a moment, then said, “Wait so… you two were sleeping together?” 

“I did something unethical. I took advantage of Will.” Not exactly a lie, but one of omission, naturally. This would even the playing field for Beverly. She would assume that he meant that he had taken sexual advantage of Will when he was already experiencing loss of time and blackouts and may not have been in his right mind. She might not want to admit it, but she may even start to believe this was tit for tat. 

“Wow.” Beverly said, putting her fork down. “Was he… did he have any symptoms at the time?” 

Hannibal didn’t put down his fork, but he looked at his food for a moment. Without answering, he took a bite. 

“Yeah that’s… that really is unethical.” Beverly agreed.

“I know.” Hannibal replied.

“You though it was Will manipulating you when he got arrested.” Beverly continued. “But then you saw what his intentions were when he came here…” 

“I realized it was I who was manipulating Will. His revenge was swift, but I can’t blame him for it. That’s why I didn’t want to file a report.” 

“Did you tell Jack this?” 

“I couldn’t face it.” Hannibal said, looking back up at her. “Jack is my friend. What would he think of me?” 

“You should have mentioned this before.” Beverly said. “It’s relevant to the case.” 

“This is off the record.” 

“Obviously.” she seemed offended at the implication that she would tell anyone this horrible secret. “Still… you should tell Jack yourself.” Beverly picked up her fork and took another bite. 

“I’m not sure I can.” Hannibal hesitated, then took another bite himself. 

“Is Dr. Bloom mad?” 

“Very. Would she be more infuriated with me than she is with Will if I told her? I’m afraid I don’t know the answer.” 

“Both of you handled this really poorly.” 

“I agree.” 

“You should apologise to Will.” 

“I would love nothing more, but present circumstances keep us apart.” 

“You don’t want them to catch your confession on tape?” Beverly asked. He wondered briefly if she would be disgusted if he told her yes. Most likely. But that wasn’t the reason in any case. 

“Dr. Chilton won’t let me see him.” 

“What?” Beverly asked. 

“He says Will is refusing to see me. I suppose I wouldn’t blame him for that.” 

“Will likes to face things head-on.” Beverly said. “I doubt it’s true. Maybe Chilton wants to hog the credit. He seems like the type.” 

Hannibal said, “But as Will’s psychiatrist at the Baltimore Hospital, he has the right to refuse me patients.” 

“That’s messed up. I’ll talk to Will. He’ll see me.” 

Hannibal gave her a curious look. 

“What? I want to see if he really said that, at the very least.” 

“You don’t need to go out of your way for me.” Hannibal told her, but Beverly shook her head. 

“I’m not. I’m doing it for Will. Maybe you’ll end up apologising to each other. I mean, you both did pretty messed up things, Hannibal.” 

“Thank you.” 

“For what?” 

“For checking on Will. I’ve been worried.” 

“I would have gone sooner if you told me sooner.” 

“I know.” He said humbly. 

“You can talk to me, Hannibal.” Beverly told him. 

“Then I simply must have you for dinner more often.” 

_____

Hannibal heard news of Will’s release the next day, from Beverly, from Alana, and then from Jack. But there was no sign of Will’s number of his phone. There was no sign of him at his regular appointment time, either. Hannibal returned home. 

As he was opening the door to the refrigerator for some chilled wine, Hannibal scented Will out. This time he was ready. He turned to face him. “The same unfortunate aftershave, too long in the bottle.” He said, and was unsurprised to see Will pointing a gun at him. Actually it made his blood rush. 

“You asked me before if it would feel good to kill you.” Will said without preamble. 

“You’ve given that some thought. Yet I’m surprised you would still consider it, given what you expressed to me the last time you had a gun on me.” 

“How did Mirium Lass find you?” Will asked, “You made sure no one could find you that way again.” 

“Or perhaps this is because of what you expressed to me before.” 

“Maybe we should discuss it. How killing you would feel.” Will said, and Hannibal could see he had no intention of letting Hannibal dictate the conversation. “Yes, I would like to pick up where we left off last, Doctor Lecter.” Will said. 

“Sexually?” Hannibal asked, as if it were the weather he was referring to. 

Will stepped forward, pointing his gun at Hannibal with one hand as Hannibal backed off. He cocked it and watched Hannibal turn away, his eyes closed. There was nothing like this sense of power: Hannibal at his mercy. Scared. 

He looked at Hannibal for a minute, then backed off, hard in his pants. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to pull the trigger or toss the gun away and ravage Hannibal on the kitchen counter. 

Strangely, executive dysfunction had him turning for the front door. 

Will had driven there at a hundred miles an hour, and now he drove back at a hundred and twenty. Incredible that they never caught him when he was actually breaking the law. 

Will greeted his dogs and locked his doors. He walked around the house, thinking and rethinking and overthinking everything that had occurred. Everything that Hannibal had put him through. 

Will’s mind kept lingering on those moments where Hannibal was at his mercy: staining his sheets, closing his eyes to the lovely click of the gun cocking, begging Will for a shower.

He put some porn on for background noise- two men this time- and turned out all the lights. He laid out on the bed, breathing deep. It was one thing for him to have wet dreams of Hannibal, but something entirely other for him to daydream. Fantasize. He stole himself, then unzipped his pants and pulled them down. 

Thinking about Hannibal being in his power completely had been enough to harden him already. He wrapped his right hand around the base of his cock and focused on that feeling, not stroking or moving, but applying pressure there. He had done it many times before- Will could always cum hands free, as sensitive as he was. 

Power. Excitement. Poetry. Submission. Abuse. Arousal. Force. Flavor. Control. Surrender. Titillation. Ingenuity. Violation. Humiliation. Penetration. Delicacy. Prose. Intelligence.

Love.

Death. 

A thousand thoughts of Hannibal and his Design. 

He thought of Hannibal’s orgasm and the flush of his skin as he came. The sound of his breath hitching and the smell of expensive cologne. The feel of his skin under Will’s fingertips. The flutter of his eyelashes as Will threatened him with a bullet to the brain. 

He replayed those intimate violations he had put Hannibal through again and again, and didn’t realize it when the video he had put on ended. In his mind’s eye, Hannibal was before him, tantalizing his flesh into a frenzy of twitching need at knifepoint. 

Finally, and yet suddenly, Will was cumming. He gasped and grabbed the sheets, the memory of Hannibal sucking his own cock strong in his mind, and let go. His orgasm washed over him. His cock twitched a few times as it unloaded, leaving him stained with his pleasure. He groaned happily and closed his eyes to the blinding need. Then it left him and he felt his muscles un-tense and release.

Love. 

Hate. 

Which was it?


	10. Much ado about nothing, act IV, scene II, Dogb

Hannibal poured himself a glass of wine as soon as he heard the front door click shut. Will had gone out the opposite way he had come in. As he drank, Hannibal mulled over his predicament. 

On the one hand, Will was actively engaged in criminal activities- that might be good. It might be a step in the right direction. 

On the other hand, his target was all wrong. Hannibal thought he should be at least a little grateful for his freedom, though he supposed he knew Will wouldn’t be. Or rather, might not attribute it to Hannibal. Or might consider it common curtesy, all things considered. Hannibal had to smile at that. 

Hannibal showered and retired, his mind still on Will. He allowed himself to stroke himself a few times in the shower, preparing for the task ahead. After all, Will was already out of prison and he might at any moment decide that Hannibal was his for the taking, no matter his other feelings. He’d done it before. And Hannibal had the distinct feeling that Will had been considering it just now.

It would be such a waste never to use the toy Hannibal had specifically ordered in the shape of Will. 

After he towelled off he laid in bed naked, holding the glass phallus in his hand. He decided to warm it up by mouth, and as he sucked and licked it sensuously he thought of Will moaning at his ministrations. He would try to hold back, not wanting to admit that Hannibal could make him so hard, but shamed gasps would escape his lips all the same. 

He might try to hurt Hannibal again as his emotions flared up. Hannibal pushed the toy deep into his own throat and held it there, massaging with his throat muscles and imagining how hard Will would be getting off on the fact that he could so easily do this. No gag reflex to speak of. 

Hannibal’s fantasies turned darker and he allowed them to, disconnecting what he was doing with the toy to what he was imagining. He pictured Will drenched in blood and panting, the body he had stabbed to death laying on the floor. Surprised but not disgusted that his mind had chosen that image, he entertained it. 

Yes, that was good. He wondered how long he had wanted that and Will’s broken, guilt-ridden voice swirled in his mind, “I liked killing Hobbs.” Mm, but what if Will owned the fact? Was proud of it? 

Hannibal penetrated himself with the toy and let out a lewd moan as he played with this new scenario. 

Will stood before him, blood dripping from his clothes and face and knife. “I liked it.” He said, power in his voice, seduction.. “I liked killing them.” 

“I know.” Hannibal whispered. 

Will dropped the knife and came to Hannibal, running his fingers across Hannibal’s face. “I cut out their hearts.” 

“Why their hearts, Will?” 

“Because they didn’t deserve them, the way they used their hearts. They didn’t have hearts.” He said automatically- the answer the world would most accept. Then, “And because I wanted to feel them twitch under my hands.” Something Will wanted. A further pause, and then, at last, very quietly, something Hannibal wanted. “And because I wanted to impress you.” 

“You have.” Hannibal said. 

“I wanted to turn you on.” 

“You’ve succeed there as well.” Hannibal admitted, not without pride. Then Will kissed him, smearing the taste of blood into Hannibal’s open mouth. They savoured it together for a moment, then pulled apart. 

Will ran his hands over Hannibal’s body, leaving bloody trails in his wake. Hannibal moaned for him as Will pumped his member, then licked it clean. He prepped Hannibal minimally before pushing inside. 

Here Hannibal cut his fantasy off. He was getting close, and the feeling of Will’s cock- yes, the shape was perfect- touching down on his prostrate was too delicious to give up just yet. 

He changed it instead, to something that wouldn’t be so likely to set him off. Instead of Will being in control, Hannibal was. There was something sensual about this as well, but if pressed he’d have to admit that it wasn’t as favorable as Will taking control and possessing the power, coming into his own. 

Hannibal put himself completely in charge, Will naked and he fully dressed, just to give it less of a spark, tilt the scales of power in Hannibal’s favor. He kissed up Will’s legs, listening to his moans, to his thighs, which he nipped at gently. Will threaded his hands through Hannibal’s hair at the sensation. Then Hannibal moved up, all along the stomach, which contracted under his ministrations. 

When he reached the chest he found it open. He glanced up at Will, who seemed unperturbed by this. “Taste me.” Will said, and Hannibal lapped at the blood tricking down his chest. “Taste me.” Will said with more insistence. Hannibal reached in and took out Will’s still-beating heart. Will moaned as if it gave him the greatest pleasure. 

“Cook it.” Will said. “You can sample my love for you.” 

Suddenly they were at the table, and Will was sitting straddling Hannibal, who sat in his regular chair, at the window. “I cooked you with red wine and garlic.” 

Will smirked at this. “I smell delicious.” he noted, lifting a fork to Hannibal’s mouth. “Much better than that aftershave that you despise, I’m sure.” 

Hannibal smiled at Will’s joke, then took a bite. He made a sound of contentment and Will ground against his hips. “Perfectly cooked.” Hannibal noted.

Will took a bite himself and, with a little smile, covered his mouth to say, “Delicious.” 

Hannibal grinned at him, pleased that Will was happy with his choice. 

“I think we should take the rest of this to bed.” Will suggested, and Hannibal was charmed with his own imagination. Leading Will back to the position of power. Back to bedroom, as well. 

Just as he had before, Will fed him upright in bed, but this time with Hannibal’s cuisine, and this time complimenting him with every bite. His body, his skill, his intelligence- what a self-indulgent fantasy- Hannibal thought. Then Will was inside him again and Hannibal was angling his toy to imitate Will’s actions. 

He threw his head back, listening to Will moan in his palace somewhere, the exact sounds he had filed away from before. At his own climax, he could hear Will’s release, a seized moan, followed by a low growl of sorts. Hannibal relaxing into his pleasure and wished for Will’s body to collapse atop his own. 

He let his muscles contract around the toy, pushing it out into his limp hand slowly as he relaxed. His mind recalled Will’s terrible aftershave, overpowered slightly by the smell of dogs, like the unexpected finish of a fine wine. And woods, and grease, and a hint of the river… And though he could give Will a cologne that would better mesh with the cacophony of smells he couldn’t change, something more likely still to spark daily sexual interest in Hannibal… he had grown attached to this smell, in a way.

Settling into his afterglow nicely, he considered the many attributes of Will Graham. His genius and poetry in speech. His heuristic curiosity. His resourcefulness and inventiveness. Hannibal’s mind wondered over the psyche of this individual like an explorer intent on mapping an uncharted island. Could he ever learn to predict such an individual? 

But enough about Will, Hannibal thought as he was forced from bed to clean his toy and use the restroom. 

It was time to get to work. 

_____

Hannibal invited Beverly over to coffee the next morning. He was feeling the sting of Will’s absence much more keenly than before. Having caught a glimpse of him was even more tormenting than being kept apart, in a way. 

“I didn’t get a chance to see Will before he was released.” Beverly told him as she sipped her hot beverage. 

“In a way, it’s a blessing. He was, after all, released. But I would have liked to know.” Hannibal said. 

“I guess you can’t really ask him yourself.” Beverly replied. Her phone went off and Beverly jumped a bit, thankfully not spilling her coffee. “Sorry,” She mumbled, taking it out of her pocket. “I’ll put it on si-” She stopped suddenly. “It’s Jack.” 

“Please.” Hannibal motioned for her to continue. 

She picked it up. “Hi, Jack.” A pause. A very long pause. Enough that Hannibal heard Jack say Beverly’s name. “I’m with Dr. Lecter right now.” She said. Hannibal gave her what passed for a curious look with him. “I’ll do it.” She said to Jack, then hung up the phone. She sighed. “Doctor Lecter, could you come with me?” 

“Where to?” 

“Quantico.” 

“Of course. Let me get my jacket.” 

“It’s not a consultation.” She warned him. Hannibal, who had been taking his coat, turned to face her, and saw that she was upset. “I’m sorry.” 

“I see.” Hannibal replied. “Am I under arrest?” 

“Not really.” Beverly told him. “They found something new.” She paused. “New-ish.”She corrected. 

“Then I am still a suspect.” 

“No one makes it off that list, Hannibal. Not without concrete facts.” 

“I’m not on your list.” 

“I meant Jack’s list.” Beverly said. “Please just come with me.” 

“I never meant to object.” Hannibal said. Then he put on his coat and followed her out the door. Apparently she trusted him enough to drive separately to Quantico, but when he pulled up she was waiting to escort him into the building. If he hadn’t known before, he would certainly have figured out that this wasn’t a consultation on the way. The route to the box was completely different. Beverly stopped outside the door and opened it for him, looking resigned to gesturing her new friend inside. 

Hannibal was surprised to see Alana when he stepped into the room. “Did Beverly tell you why you’re here?” She asked immediately, but her voice was gentle and demure, as always. It was one of the things he liked about her. 

“She mentioned some evidence they found yesterday at the location they had discovered previously.” Hannibal told her. 

“They found a witness. A surviver. The only victim of the Chesapeake Ripper who lived to tell.” Alana told him. 

“Is this witness watching now?” He asked. He didn’t bother to sit down. 

“Yes.” Alana replied. 

“Seems I am the usual suspect.” “I keep having angry, imaginary conversations with Jack Crawford about that. I wish I could tell you why this is happening.” Of course she did. 

“This witness must not be able to identify the Ripper by sight. Jack wants them to hear my voice, otherwise I would be in here alone.” He paused to look at Alana, saying, truthfully, “Still, I appreciate your company.” Then he crossed to the glass and stared through it as if he could see for a long while. If she was on the other side, his profile alone should spark her training. But even if she didn’t see it, she wouldn’t identify him. 

Nothing happened for a while. Then Hannibal turned back to Alana, saying. “What shall we talk about?” 

“What do you want to talk about?” She asked him. Open Up To Me, Hannibal, is what she meant. 

He would open up. But not here. 

The door conveniently opened and Beverly came in. “Hey. That’s alright for today.” 

Hannibal nodded as Alana stood. They exited together. “What did she say?” Alana asked. “We have a right to know.” 

“Alana, please.” Hannibal stopped her, but he looked at Beverly to address her himself. “Am I under arrest, Ms. Katz?” 

“What happened to ‘Beverly?’” She asked with a smile. 

“I thought it might not be appropriate for the moment.” 

“It was. Because you’re free to go.” 

“Thank you.” Hannibal said, “I have patients to attend to, so we must postpone our morning coffee to a later date. Good afternoon.” 

——-

The morning Will had been released, Frederick had been there in person to let him out. Will had gotten the feeling it was mostly to express his displeasure. 

“Gideon didn’t tell his story.” Will had stated. 

“Oh, he told the story. He said it was mine!” Frederick had said. 

Will had had to chuckle at that. Oh, he was clever, Hannibal Lecter, and Gideon certainly thought that he was as well. He’d never hold a candle to the Chesapeake Ripper, though. Hannibal had played them all. Hell, he’d written the composition. 

Will had told Frederick to confess to bonding with Hannibal over unorthodox therapies- or get Gideon to- if it bothered him so much. He hadn’t worried Frederick with the truth when he’d asked why Hannibal hadn’t simply killed Will. Will had smiled, then left the room. 

His smile hadn’t stayed. Jack had been waiting in the next room to tell him that they had found Miriam Lass, and to apologize for having given up on him. Will had been far from ready to forgive- still was, but his need to see the Ripper had been greater. He had asked, and Jack had answered, where they’d found her. Then Will had gotten into a car with him and they’d gone to the site. 

After looking around for a while, Will had been more convinced than ever that he had been right. He’d recognized Hannibal’s design. But Jack hadn’t seemed to be listening, once again, so Will had turned and gone home to see his dogs. 

Alana hadn’t been listening either. 

Will was quietly reliving this over coffee after taking his dogs out that morning. It was strange, having decent coffee. He was sitting inhaling the scent now, enjoying it so much that his eyes were closing of their own volition. The memory of Hannibal’s kitchen with his expensive coffee contraption sprang to mind. Will sighed and wondered why he couldn’t get Hannibal out of his head for ten minutes, though without passion, since clearly he did know the reason why. 

Then his dogs started to stir. 

Will looked up and put his coffee down. He went outside to see Frederick, covered in blood. 

As Frederick took a shower, Will called Jack. 

“Will?” Jack said in greeting.

“Jack, Frederick Chilton is here.” 

“Keep him there.” 

“Be quick. He’s in the shower.” Will hung up without a goodbye. 

As soon as Chilton was out, he started packing. “I have the same profile as Hannibal Lecter. Same medical and psychological background. We are both doctors of note in our field. Of course it would be me!” Will looked away. How dramatic. This man wasn’t of any real importance to Hannibal. “Hannibal was never going to kill me. I’m his patsy! I- I have to leave the country. I am leaving the country.”

“No, if you run you’ll look guilty.” 

“You did not run and you looked plenty guilty.” Frederick pointed out, panicking. “There was a man half-eaten in my guest room! I have corpses on my property. You just threw up an ear!” 

“There’s an APB on you right now, they’ve cancelled your credit cards and they’re tracing your phone.” Will informed him. 

“I have cash and I tossed my phone. Jack Crawford thinks I killed two agents: three agents! You know what tends to happen to people who do that? Shoot on sight.”   
“I’m gonna prove Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper.” 

“I know you will. And when you do, I will read about it from a secure location and I will reintroduce myself to society at that time…” At this point Frederick suddenly realized the dogs had begun to bark. He peeked out the window and after a brief pause, backed into the room again, saying, “Will? What have you done?” 

“I called Jack Crawford.” Will told him calmly. 

“No, no… no,” Frederick said, taking out a gun as Will stood, slowly. “No, no! No! No, stay there!” 

Will scoffed at him. “You’re not a killer, Frederick.” He turned, but picked up the pace to confront Jack, seeing that his was the only car there. He burst out of the door. This was dangerous- Jack had a vendetta. “Why’d you come alone, Jack?”  
“Where is he?” Jack demanded.

“Why’d you come alone?” Will reiterated, knowing the answer. “Hey, hey! I told you.” Will held out a hand to stop him. “Everything is not what it seems. The Chesapeake Ripper is still playing with us. All of us.” 

“The Chesapeake Ripper’s not playing all of us, Will. He’s playing you.” 

“Jack, wait.” Will said, trying to at least prevent Jack from barging in and shooting Chilton on sight, just as the good doctor had feared, by pushing Jack back gently, “I’ll bring him out. He’s got a gun.” 

“Good.” Jack walked right past Will and into the house. Will sighed, dropping his head. He called his dogs over, and then he listened, standing on the doorstep. A few seconds later, he head Jack cry, “CHILTON!” 

The dogs began to bark, but Will silenced them. 

Of course Chilton had run. Of course. Will waited for the sound of a gunshot. There was one, in the distance. Then two. Another pause…. silence. 

And three.


	11. Boy With Thorn

Will took a long moment looking in the mirror as the FBI swarmed outside. They had asked him for a statement. He shrugged and gave yes or no answers. He wasn’t sure anymore what he wanted to do.

Protect Jack, or abandon him? 

Fuck Hannibal, or kill him? 

Jack had thanked him afterwards. Actually thanked him. 

Hey, by the way, Will, thank you for not telling anyone that I knew for sure that Chilton was here and you know I shot him in cold blood, probably after he surrendered. Will wondered how much like himself Jack was. Maybe Jack was more like Will than either of them had thought. More likely to kill, even to enjoy doing it, than they had thought. 

Something about his reflection in the mirror felt off. Maybe the cracks of stress and of recent events should have marred him somehow, but they didn’t show. He both was and wasn’t so many things: a murderer (in protection of others, though), a rapist (but he had consented), a criminal (but he was freed on the Ripper’s evidence). 

He now understood the word “inconclusive” in an entirely different way than he had before. 

In standing there, facing an existential crisis, facing his trauma, he decided perhaps too hastily. He needed to reclaim himself- from Jack, from Hannibal? He wasn’t sure. But he needed to own some new part of himself that had reared it’s ugly head.

He would embrace this new demon- or monster- or wendigo- whatever it was. He went to the closet, stripping as he walked, leaving the old parts of himself in an untidy row on the floor. He paused there and considered his wardrobe, which was scant in the semi-formal department- the formal department lesser still. He’d bought a new suit for his trial. 

He chose two shirts from there that were more blue-collar than his usual attire, and a pair of slacks he’d received as a gift and literally never worn. 

He opted for the white shirt, first. He looked like he was going to a funeral. Hannibal wouldn’t mind much, but if he really wanted to impress, something bolder would be better.

He realized with a start that he was dressing for Hannibal. 

That should bother him. 

It didn’t. 

Will had another shirt in a mineral blue, but if also felt too subdued. He went further into his closet and pulled out anything that had a collar and buttons unless it was plaid. He’d worn a lot of plaid before his incarceration and wanted a major change.

At last he found something. 

He put on the orange shirt, surprised it fit him- he hardly ever worn it. The material was fine but the color tended to draw attention to him. That was good, for tonight. It looked striking in combination with his black pants and a nicer jacket. Nothing too formal. Nothing too obvious. 

He was going to do his hair, though. He curled it the same way he had the day that he’d left Hannibal tied to the bed, partially because he knew Hannibal would enjoy the effort, and partially because it would remind Hannibal of their days together. He’d seen Will like this for a few brief moments. 

He put his glasses on when he stepped out. Jack was still on the scene. “Where are you going?” He asked, noting Will’s attire with indifference. 

“Out. I feel like going out.” 

Jack nodded as if he understood and it struck Will for the first time just how little he did, and just how selfish they both were. 

Hannibal, innocent or not, had refused to cooperate and had let Jack’s wife die, and now he would never earn Jack’s forgiveness. Will may be a rapist, for all Jack knew, but he had omitted details that would inconvenience Jack from today’s events, and that was all he had needed to do to earn his forgiveness. On the other hand, what he himself was about to do… Truly there were no good men. 

Instead of driving straight to Hannibal’s, Will stopped at the Mondawmin Mall in northern Baltimore. He waited in the car for a while, trying to piece together what had driven him there. Then he realized that it was Hannibal who had done that. He closed his eyes and let the pendulum swing, going through the steps that Hannibal would take if he were Will. Then he got out of the car and went directly to the store in the far right corner from where he had parked. 

He walked down the aisles of suits and into the back section, where a row of colognes Will would never had tried before now were waiting. He’d seen it when he’d gone to buy a suit here once, and secretly scoffed at the prices. Two hundred dollars for maybe five ounces of cologne? 

But as he picked it up now, he was aware only of it’s baseness, it’s commonness. Two hundred dollars wasn’t actually so much. He was sure, in fact, that Hannibal wore something with both a heftier brand and price-tag. It would have to do for tonight, though. Hannibal would notice the effort. 

He payed with credit and was declined. Embarrassed, but hiding it well, he stepped out to talk with his credit card company. Flagged for suspicious behaviour- Will had to chuckle. Was his simple nature so transparent that even his creditors could see that he would have never made such a purchase if it wasn’t for someone else? 

His card went through this time. 

By the time he’d gotten to the car, Will realized he hadn’t smelled the cologne at all. He opened the bottle and put some on, barely a half of a dab. Strong. Musky. He didn’t like it. Maybe Hannibal would- he had no gauge for such things. 

Will drove to Hannibal’s house. 

___________ 

Hannibal was about to sip his wine when there was a knock on the door. His heart leapt, but he dared not hope as he crossed the room. 

Hannibal opened the door and, recovering quickly, said, “Hello, Will.” However, the man standing before him was much unlike the Will Graham that had tied him to a bed, or had a seizure in his dinning room. 

“May I come in?” Will asked, as Hannibal noted the beautifully teased curl that seemed to have strayed away from the rest on it’s own, the orange button-up and black pants, his jacket placed over his arm elegantly. 

“Do you intend to point a gun at me?” Hannibal asked him. 

“Not tonight.” Will replied with a slight smile, and Hannibal stepped to the side to allow Will into the room. As he seemingly floated past, his steps slow but casual, Hannibal could smell a new aroma, more expensive. It didn’t suit Will, but the effort was obvious. He dropped his gaze- Will was suddenly like the sun, too bright and intense to look at so directly. 

“Are you expecting someone?” Will asked him. 

Hannibal recovered. “Only you.”

“Kept my standing appointment open?”

“And you're right on time.” Hannibal said, checking his watch unnecessarily. 

Will didn’t look at him. “I have to deal with you. And my feelings about you. I think it's best if I do that directly.”

“First you have to grieve for what is lost, and what has changed.”

“I've changed.” Will said, and Hannibal got an excellent view of his profile as Will turned just so. He had time to wish Will had turned to the other way- he would have liked to see that perfect singular curl from the side. “You changed me.” Will finished. 

“Perhaps the friendship that we had is over.” 

“I saw to that.” 

“You said many times that you would punish the Ripper.” 

“Yet never could.” Will whispered. 

“You never found him.” 

“Don’t.” Will said, closing his eyes. Hannibal felt the very air change around them both. “I don't expect you to admit anything. You can't. But I prefer sins of omission to outright lies, Dr. Lecter. Don't lie to me. You may have to pretend,” Will paused for a second, “but I don’t.” 

Hannibal said nothing for a while. Then he said, “No, you don’t. Not with me.” He offered a small smile that Will could not see. “Do you not feel then, that you punished the Ripper after all?”

“Not enough.” Will faced the wall again, looking up at the vast library above him. 

“Could it ever be enough for you?” 

“My appetite has increased.” Will admitted. 

“And you don’t know if you can feel satisfied again.” Hannibal remarked. 

“I think I could, if it were with you.” Will said, leaving Hannibal to wonder if he was referring to killing him or taking him. He didn’t have the time to ask, because it was here that Will finally turned to face him, looking him directly in the eye. “I’d like to resume my therapy.” He said. 

Unsure of what he should expect, but interested nonetheless, Hannibal sat directly across from Will, in his usual space. Will took note of the graceful curve of Hannibal’s leg as he casually threw it over his knee. He wondered if he would look good doing that.

“Where shall we begin?” Hannibal asked him. 

“Let’s start at the obvious point, shall we?” Will said. “I think it will be uncomfortable to beat around the bush, don’t you?” 

“I very much do.” 

“I tried to have you killed.” 

This wasn’t where Hannibal had thought Will was going with this, but he took it as it was. “You found a way to hurt me.” 

“And I tried to rape you.” There was no kind of shame in Will’s voice at this admission, but that at least was what Hannibal wanted to talk about. 

“You tried.” Hannibal provided. 

“Did you try?” 

“I have no wish to hurt you, Will.” 

“To see me,” Will said, his brow furrowing a bit in confusion, though he had changed the subject himself and quite suddenly, “I mean.” 

“Frederick informed me that I wasn’t permitted to see you.” 

“Oh, I know.” 

“Did you request that?” Hannibal asked. 

“Yes.” Will said with a dark smile. Hannibal said nothing, so Will continued, “You don’t get to frame me and then watch me stew, Dr. Lecter.” 

“The Ripper put you in there, but he took you out as well.” 

“I have to wonder how many of my actions made him consider it.” 

“What kind of relationship do you think you have with the Ripper?” 

“No, you tell me.” 

Hannibal readjusted a bit, buying time to think. “It’s of interest, to be sure. The Ripper let himself be known, and he let go a valuable hostage.” 

“Did they even bother to call you in for her to see? Or did Jack tell you the details?” 

Hannibal allowed Will this one comfort: “They called me in.” 

“And determined… that it wasn’t… you.” Will said slowly. 

“She was unable to identify me, yes.” 

“She won’t get another chance to identify the Ripper.” Will said. “She won’t get a chance to clear your name for you.” 

“Was there another suspect?” 

“Frederick. Chilton.” 

Hannibal gave him a small head tilt and a furrowed brow that Will might have missed if he was not so attuned to micro-expressions, and said, sincerely, “But what has happened to Frederick?” 

“Jack killed him.” 

Hannibal was still for a moment, then he said, “When was this?” 

“Oh, about three hours ago.” Will told him. “He showed up at my house, said that the two agents who’d came to fetch him were dead, and there was a man in his basement who was cut into pieces and on a heart machine. The whole shebang.” 

“Then he claims to have come to you for refuge- you being the other person who suspected me almost from the start.”

“He ran when Jack came.” 

“Did you see Jack shoot him?” 

“I saw the body.” 

“I see.” Hannibal said. There was a short pause, then, “Then it seems the Chesapeake Ripper is over, as well.” 

“Jack saw to that.” 

“Do you resent Jack for his actions?” 

Will shrugged almost imperceptibly. “Some… of his actions.” 

“But not this one. Not the action that ended a man’s life.” 

“There are many ways to end a man’s life.” Will said with acid. 

“Yes.” 

“Jack didn’t shoot Chilton for running. He shot him in revenge.” 

“You didn’t see the act.” 

“But that’s not what I told the inquiry board.” 

“Why protect Jack, after he’s abandoned you? Twice, as I recall.” 

Will sat thinking for long enough that Hannibal realized he didn’t know the answer, and then said, “Isn’t that just what I do?” Again, Hannibal said nothing. “I try to kill you… I feel relief when I find out you survived. Jack ignores my warnings and kills our only witness… I lie for him.” 

“You don’t understand your own actions?” 

Will looked at Hannibal hard in the eyes for some time, then said, “Would that be so insane?” 

“Many people don’t understand the way that feel, or how they respond to those feelings. Part of therapy is seeking clarity about the way we feel and act.” 

“Do you think you can give me clarity?” 

“I think I can help you find some clarity.” Hannibal corrected ever so gently. “The real work is your responsibility.” Will nodded at Hannibal and then dropped his eyes. Hannibal said, “Is there anything you have clarity in, Will? Any action, any fact, that strikes you as genuine?” 

“Yes.” Hannibal waited for Will to elaborate, and he did, drawing his eyes back up to Hannibal’s face and studying the strange beauty there. “Frederick Chilton was not the Chesapeake Ripper.” 

“You seem certain. But is that due to your suspicion of me? Or is it due to some other fact?” 

“The Ripper would never leave a trail of bodies in his wake. He would make sure that nothing would be traced back to him.” 

“Then the Ripper isn’t finished.” 

“Oh, no. He’s just getting started.” 

“That means he may not be finished with you.” Hannibal pointed out.

“I guess he’s probably not.” Will said. He didn’t seem bothered by it. 

Will glanced at his watch. He had always thought Hannibal had had an excellent sense of time, the way he instinctively knew when people had taken an hour of his time, but this time they were almost five minutes late. The difference probably wouldn’t have been noticeable to someone other than Will. “Time’s up.” He said. 

Hannibal pretended to check his time piece as well, though he knew Will was right. “It seems it is.” 

Will gave him a strange smile, like he knew that Hannibal was only pretending to have just noticed. Then he confirmed it by saying, “I guess I’ll have to keep my own time from now on.” 

“Do you have another appointment elsewhere?” 

“No.” 

“Would you like some supper?” 

Hannibal had asked it casually, but his need to stay near Will, especially this new, sleek Will, was overpowering. If Will said no, he wasn’t sure what he would do. Most likely try to follow him home twenty minutes after he left and pick the lock to watch Will sleep for a while. The dogs would let him, surely. 

But Will said nothing for a long time. He stared at Hannibal without changing his expression, and Hannibal could tell he was struggling again- two minds clutching at him, pulling him in either direction. At last one of them gave. “Yes.” Will said, his voice strong but quiet. 

Hannibal got up and went directly to the back door. He turned out the lights as Will passed him, then closed the door, and they made their way up to the house. Hannibal took Will’s jacket when they got inside. He noted how, for nearly the first time, Will said, “thank you.” Simple polite gestures didn’t usually earn Will’s thanks, but this time he had chosen to show manners. Interesting. 

The new cologne rolled off of the jacket. Hannibal inhaled. 

“What are we making?” Will asked as Hannibal rolled his sleeves. His eyes caught and lingered on the marks Mathew Brown had left on Hannibal’s forearms. 

“I think some wine first.” Hannibal said. He put out two glasses and poured something pink. “We’ll match the dish to the glass tonight.” He handed it to Will and Will took it. 

The way he tasted it, oh. His eyes stayed on Hannibal the whole time. 

Will circled around to the fridge, so Hannibal was forced on the other side of the counter, as if Will were herding him. He let Hannibal stew there, on the side he usually didn’t stand on, for a moment, watching Will enjoy his wine. Hannibal took a sip as well, but Will got the sense Hannibal was so busy watching him that the taste didn’t really register. 

Will put down his glass on the counter. Unfazed by the tension in the air, Hannibal continued as he also set his wine down, “How about-”

Will took a few steps toward Hannibal and watched him falter. He had to smirk at Hannibal’s sudden change of behaviour. Oh he was ready to fight if he needed to, and even Will wasn’t sure if he wouldn’t need to. He took a few more steps, and Hannibal backed up into the wall, studying him. Then Will launched forward. 

Will decided what he was going to do only when he’d already moved. 

He had to pin both of Hannibal’s wrists as he brought up his hands, and Hannibal was ready for this- ready to lash out with his feet instead. What he wasn’t ready for was Will’s lips on his own. His eyes were wide open when Will closed his. 

The kiss was frenzied and passionate, and Will didn’t stick to the lips, dragging his mouth over Hannibal’s stubble and onto his neck, and back, then to his ear. Hannibal moaned and relaxed from his tense position, allowing Will to pin him without a fight. As soon as Will was sure Hannibal had gotten the message, he let go of his hands and started to undo Hannibal’s shirt. 

He stopped at simply exposing the skin there, running his hands over Hannibal’s chest, cupping his defined pecks and taking handholds of chest hair at random. Hannibal’s hands focused on nearness instead, holding Will’s hips firmly in place so he could move freely against Hannibal. 

Oh, it felt good to be touched by Will again. 

Everything he had imagined paled in comparison to this, and Will hadn’t even undressed him yet. Hannibal tried to break free a bit, just to lead Will down the wall, to the bedroom, but found Will’s hand, firmly slammed there to prevent his escape, blocking his way. 

Will removed it to get the buttons on Hannibal’s slacks. He reached his hand in run his palm upwards against Hannibal’s member and took advantage of his head being thrown back by going for the neck. He felt Hannibal swallow and heard him moan deep and sensual. The sound of it was enough to drive Will further still, loosing his grip on self control as much as reality. 

Hannibal’s hands had drifted to Will’s pants and were undoing the button when Will took them away and pinned them at Hannibal’s waist again. Hannibal didn’t resist, let Will control the pace. 

Will wasn’t done with Hannibal, though. Before he even considered taking off his clothes, Hannibal had to loose his. Will put his thumbs on the inside of Hannibal’s slacks and pulled down swiftly. Hannibal looked down at him, but not for long, as Will stood up directly after this. He turned and took the glass bottle of olive oil that was on the counter space, and faced Hannibal again. 

Hannibal had apparently understood perfectly, and taken the liberty of kicking off his shoes and pants, exposing himself to Will. He was hard. So hard that his cock was perfectly straight in front of him, begging Will for a touch or a lick. Will ignored it for the most part, pushing Hannibal up so he could reach his hole. Unceremoniously, he dumped olive oil over his hand, staining Hannibal’s slacks and pouring it all over the floor. 

Hannibal didn’t seem to mind. He let out a deep moan and threw his head back again when Will pushed his fingers in. “Please Will…” He heard Hannibal whisper, so quiet that if a single sound besides them had been in the kitchen, Will was sure that he wouldn’t have heard it at all. 

But it was intoxicating, Hannibal’s voice, broken and pleading already for what Will was giving him. Will fumbled with his pants for a moment and got his cock free. He took Hannibal’s right leg, which of course lifted easily to accommodate Will, and held onto it as he pushed himself inside. 

Hannibal stifled what surely had been an erotically rude sound and Will grinned as he pushed all the way in until he was bottoming out. Then his amusement turned to vast pleasure and Will had to focus on keeping upright as he fucked the hell out of Hannibal. 

Hannibal’s hands were on his waist and under his arm, hugging Will tight to keep him inside as he thrust wildly. Will couldn’t see Hannibal’s face as he held him, but his eyes were closed and his face was twisted with pleasure. He was moaning, and so was Will- both of them trying to catch the sounds pouring from their lips; contain the pleasure they were feeling. 

Will’s hips canted forward as he came, his voice cracking on the moan he let out. Hannibal’s sharp intake of breath at the feeling of Will’s seed being released inside of him was nearly drowned out by Will’s second moan, which was louder and more intense than the first. Then Hannibal felt Will falter a bit, as if his knees would give out, and then steady himself. Hannibal let go so Will wouldn’t be supporting so much of his weight, having just cum. He regretted it immediately- Will pulled away and out of Hannibal completely. The shots of cum that had delighted Hannibal so much spilled down Hannibal’s legs and onto the floor and his slacks. 

Hannibal watched Will for a split second as he tucked himself away, not looking Hannibal in the eyes. 

Would Will leave now? 

Could Hannibal seduce him into staying? 

Will was standing in the kitchen with the air of someone who had just accidentally killed someone- he would certainly run if Hannibal didn’t do anything. 

He stepped forward and placed a chaste kiss on Will’s lips. Will’s eyes came up to meet his, but showed Hannibal very little. He kissed Will again, this time more passionately, running his fingers down Will’s spine with one hand and taking a gentle fistful of Will’s curls with the other. He threw all his love into that kiss, massaging Will’s lips, jaw, stubble, with his own lips. 

When Hannibal pulled back for a moment, his eyes half-lidded, he saw that Will hadn’t even closed his. He’d given no reaction at all, in fact. 

Hannibal dived back in, feeling and touching, sexualising the kiss as much as he could. His fingers deftly undid the buttons on Will’s shirt. He nibbled Will’s ear and licked up it. Will still didn’t react. 

Hannibal moved his hands over Will’s chest and down his muscles suggestively, trying to tempt Will to continue his own ministrations. This time when he went for the pants, Will didn’t stop him with his hands. Instead he took a step back. 

“I should go.” Will nearly whispered. 

“No dinner?” Hannibal said, and he was sure he hadn’t kept the disappointment out of his voice. 

“No…. no dinner.” Will said, “I think I’ve gorged myself.” 

“You delight in me, and then berate yourself for the delight.” 

Will dropped his eyes in shame, but then said nothing as he turned to go, tidying himself a bit along the way. 

Going after Will seemed desperate. 

Was he not desperate?

But somehow Hannibal couldn’t bring himself to follow Will to the back door. If Will wouldn’t allow himself to want Hannibal, what could he do to change that?


	12. Primavera

Will’s phone rang at 4:03 in the morning. He knocked over almost everything on the table except his alarm clock trying to pick it up, and when he answered he didn’t realize he was expecting Hannibal’s voice until it didn’t come. “Will?” 

“Beverly…?” 

“Hey. I’m sorry it’s so early.” 

“What happened?” Will asked groggily, fighting that he was upset not to hear Hannibal and hating himself for it all at once. He was annoyed, and being woken up probably didn’t have much to do with it. 

“There’s been an attack and it’s been handed over to us because… well, it was weird.” 

“Why didn’t Jack call me?” 

Silence. Then, “You didn’t hear about that, huh?” She sounded upset and exasperated that she had to be the one to tell him. 

“…no.” 

“He’s been put on forced leave.” Beverly said. “I asked them if I could be the one to call you.” 

“I’ll be honest I wasn’t expecting it.” 

“Well…” There was a bit of a silence, then Beverly said, “It’s not like Hannibal was very good to you, either.” 

Will sat up a bit, resting on his elbow. “I know you don’t believe me that he’s the Ripper, Beverly, so what could you possibly mean by that.” He knew it sounded more like a demand or a threat than a question.

There was a bit more silence. “Maybe we better talk about this in person, Will. Are you coming?” 

“You know what? No. I’m not coming. And don’t call me anymore. This entire ordeal is Jack’s fault and honestly I’m not sure why you’d want me in the field after all of this.” 

“You’re the best we got.” She said, plain and simple, but Will scoffed and hung up the phone. 

He couldn’t get back to sleep, so he got up and took his dogs out into the crisp air. He hovered on the doorstep in too few clothes for a while with his phone in his hand, contemplating what seemed unfinished. No, that conversation with Beverly was about all he wanted to have. So…. 

Oh. Oh no. 

He wanted to call Hannibal. 

He wanted to rant to him about how everyone had used him up and then tossed him aside, and when it was convenient for them, they came after him again. 

The problem was… wasn’t Hannibal one of those people? 

***

Hannibal’s phone rang at 4:23 in the morning. He sat up a bit and turned on the lamp. His heart sank when he looked at the caller ID. Only Beverly. Ah, yes, she would be his contact now that Jack was taking… some time off. Hannibal picked up the phone. “Good morning, Ms. Katz.” 

“Hey. Do you think you could come out to a crime scene?” 

“Yes of course. Where is Will?” 

“He’s… um. Not interested.” 

Ah. 

“I see. Where is the body?” 

***

Hannibal finished up early with the scene and attended his appointments as usual, curious if the young beast who had told him so long ago that he was not a man had been able to come to terms with himself. It seemed the sort of thing he would do, if he was able to admit his needs to himself. But Hannibal didn’t spend much time pondering this. It would be easier for him to simply track him down and ask more directly than to sit there wondering. 

Easier and more useful, in fact. 

He couldn’t, however, as easily ignore his thoughts about Will. He found himself checking the clock while his clients looked away- something he rarely did, as his own internal one was so accurate, and it would seem rude if he was too overt. He thought once about taking some time off, since he wasn’t probably much use to his clients with his mind otherwise occupied, but that would seem somewhat suspicious he was sure. No one seemed to notice that he was watching the clock anyway. 

Would Will come to his usual appointment? Would he avoid it? Would Hannibal be wise to invite him to dinner again, if Will did come to his appointment? Would he allow Hannibal to get him into that position again? And again, and again? Or would he learn to avoid Hannibal instead? 

Thirty minutes after his last appointment, Hannibal was still in his office, and unlike the night before, he wasn’t sipping wine. He hadn’t been sure Will would return to therapy, but there was something of a lack of expectation before. Now, he was waiting to see if Will would come back. He was jittery. That had rarely happened. 

Hannibal was getting annoyed counting the ways in which Will affected him that no one else did. 

Seven-thirty. He walked to the door, paused for a second to collect himself, and opened it. There was Will, properly groomed once again, and he had either purchased new clothes or those were sitting in his closet for a long time and Hannibal had never seen them. 

“Dr. Lecter.” Will said. 

“Hello, Will.” Hannibal replied. 

As Will walked past him, Hannibal inhaled. New, never been washed. 

“I assume Beverly contacted you after I hung up on her this morning.” 

“She did.” Hannibal said. “You rejected her invitation.” 

“I have nothing to say to that.” Will said, sitting down. 

Hannibal sighed in thought, then crossed his right leg over his left. “Tell me, do you feel used by Beverly?” 

Will chuckled darkly. “Oh, I feel used by everyone.” 

“You were an excellent tool to some. Would you have acted differently, were you them?” 

“Mistakes are normal, Hannibal. How you address them afterwards is what counts.” 

“That’s true. How will you address the mistakes that you have made yourself?” 

“No,” Will said, showing irked humor rather than pure annoyance, “How will you address your mistakes?” 

Hannibal’s lip twitched, but he didn’t answer Will’s question. “I suppose that remains to be seen.” Will continued, “But I know at least one of your mistakes has already been addressed. Or, one of mine- you know, it’s hard to say.” 

Hannibal showed no understanding, so Will said, “Beverly.” 

“I’m afraid I don’t know what it is you’re referring to, Will.” 

“You best not be playing games with me, Dr. Lecter.” 

“You expressly asked me not to. I don’t see how it could be to my benefit.” 

“What did you tell her? About what you did to me?” 

Something finally hit home and Hannibal shifted in his seat. “Beverly needed an explanation as to why I wouldn’t press charges.” 

“You told her something. Something… juicy. She couldn’t resist biting on it.” 

“I told her that I took advantage of you myself, in your altered state.” 

Will looked at Hannibal quietly for a moment. Hannibal realized for the first time that, while other people’s intentions and reactions might be quite clear to him, he couldn’t predict what Will was going to do with this information. He’d have to wait and see. It felt like ten minutes that he sat there, but he didn’t want to look at the clock- to do so might mean influencing Will’s reaction. He wanted to see the purest emotion that Will would feel: without Hannibal’s influence.

Finally, Will laughed. “Are we? Are we admitting that?” He asked. 

Interesting, the “we” instead of “you,” good progress, Hannibal thought. 

“Did you not want it admitted?” 

“That I took advantage of you, obvious to everyone. That you took advantage of me, that’s … putting you in the wrong.” Will said, his surprise and confusion evident. Had Hannibal managed to surprise Will as well? 

“No greater love hath man than to lay down one’s life for a friend.” 

Will’s face fell. Hannibal’s message- I put myself in danger for you, Will- couldn’t have been clearer. “Am I supposed to be grateful?” 

“I only hope that you see my intent.” 

“Your intent.” Will said thoughtfully. He nodded, brow furrowed. “I know your intentions, Hannibal. You still seem to be labouring under the delusion that I don’t know what you’re doing- what you’re thinking.” 

“On the contrary, I think you are deeper inside the Ripper’s head than anyone has ever been.” 

Will was taken aback by this, but tried not to show it. Hannibal had just admitted that he was the Ripper, almost with certainty. Will didn’t think he was successful in keeping the variety of emotions from his expressions- at least not all of them. 

Will stood. Hannibal watched him intently as he took a walk around Hannibal’s desk, picking things up and fidgeting with them as usual. It was a habit Hannibal had very much grown to cherish, and watching him play with every instrument at his fingertips was quite amusing now. If only he could make Will’s hands touch him as readily as he did objects, merely by standing near him. 

Hannibal didn’t move as Will walked behind him, though his body was on alert. It was difficult to know if Will would decide to to suddenly strangle him from behind or assault him with his lips. A minute contemplating this and the lines began to blur, and suddenly Hannibal found himself content with either option. 

But Will didn’t touch him. Instead he returned to his chair.

Perhaps now, Will thought, Hannibal would discuss this. Really discuss this. “I don’t understand how you could do this. I mean, you cared about her as much as I did.” 

“Perhaps more.” Hannibal said.

“Then why?” 

“What happened needed to happen.” 

“There were other ways. But there aren’t now.” Will said, broken. A tear fell from his eye and he wiped it away. The simple action nearly broke Hannibal’s heart, but if he told Will now, he would be choosing Abigail, not Hannibal. 

“Occasionally, I drop a teacup to shatter on the floor.” He said instead, “On purpose.” A pause as he thought over what he should say to express himself to Will. “I'm not satisfied when it doesn't gather itself up again… Someday perhaps, a cup will come together.”

“You came together. When I sent someone to kill you.” Will admitted.

“You felt relief.” Hannibal asked him, and Will could see that it pleased Hannibal to hear it. 

“Just as you felt my absence. Why else would you let me go, when all of this worked out in your favor?” 

“Do you wish now that he had killed me?” 

“No.” Will said, tears threatening his eyes again. “I need to kill you myself.” 

“Do you fantasize about killing me?” 

“Yes.” 

“How would you do it?” Hannibal asked, truly curious, Will could see. 

“With my hands.” Will said, and in his heart, he knew what he really meant was ‘intimately.’ 

“If you really wish to kill me, I am at your mercy at this moment.” 

“Oh, there’s a scalpel on the desk.” Will said nonchalantly. 

“I will not resist.” Hannibal said. He placed his right leg on the floor, readying his body for attack. Will looked at him for a moment, and Hannibal wondered if he would allow himself to take the bait. 

Then Will was on him. He knocked both chairs to the ground, one in his hurry to get out of it, and the other from jumping on Hannibal. Hannibal’s head struck the floor when they rolled, but it was good. Perhaps a concussion would help him to keep his promise not to fight back. Will’s hands found his throat and pressed down. What a sensuous way to take a life, Hannibal thought. He reached up and saw Will flinch, but he had every intention of letting Will do as he pleased. He wanted to touch him, though. 

Hannibal’s hand found Will’s cheek and rested there, and Hannibal closed his eyes, forcing his body to relax. He was touching Will, and Will was touching him- no matter how violent, how cruel- Will was touching him. He felt darkness close in, but as it came he heard a sob and knew somewhere in the back of his mind that his own throat wouldn’t have been able to make that noise with Will’s hands on it. He opened his eyes to see Will one last time and felt a tear fall on his cheek. 

Suddenly the pressure was gone. Hannibal coughed and rolled onto his side to catch his breath as Will stood over him, panting hard and crying silently. A hand was offered, and Hannibal took it. Will brought him to his feet, then he turned and walked to his own chair and righted it so he could collapse there with his head in his hands. 

Will just sat for a moment, letting his emotions wash over him. He couldn’t kill Hannibal- wouldn’t kill Hannibal. Who could understand him as much as Hannibal? Know him like Hannibal? Guide him as Hannibal had? Who would teach him the mystery of himself as Hannibal could? 

Who would he love as he loved Hannibal? 

Hannibal regained as much dignity as he could so he could sit his chair up again and sit opposite of Will. He could easily have admitted to a few fallen tears as well, and perhaps he was diving deeper into Will’s mind than he had intended, too, because he couldn’t place the source. It was surely nothing to do with the pain of being choked out. Rather, was it because Will couldn’t kill him, couldn’t accept the darkness? Or was it because Will didn’t kill him, didn’t want to live without him? 

Slowly, Will stopped crying, though he didn’t raise his head. 

After some time on pause, Hannibal said, “I’m concerned that if I run late, you might have some other appointment…” His voice was raw, but Will knew he didn’t want to disturb Will’s moment, if he didn’t have to. “You pointed the time out to me once before.” 

Will looked at the clock. As usual no time seemed to have passed here in Hannibal’s office, though the clock read 8:43. His eyes dropped to the floor, but he wasn’t sure if he was ashamed of his actions, or that he couldn’t complete them. He nodded. “I have to go.” he whispered. 

“I hope this hour was helpful for you, Will.” Hannibal said, and Will looked in his eyes. But he didn’t need to read Hannibal’s expression to know that he truly meant that. Will nodded again, quickly. “Good.” Hannibal said. 

“I’ll see myself out.” Will told him, and stood up to exit. Hannibal allowed him this wish, but watched him go. He could only hope for Will’s return. 

***

Hannibal contemplated the Will Problem over cooking dinner. He was having Beverly over again, but for now he could focus half on seasoning the pig and half on what he would do about Will now. There was not much he could think of. 

Will had refused ultimately to kill him. Was he still resisting his obvious darkness? Or had he accepted it, but was ready to be with Hannibal? 

He would have to test Will’s resolve in some other way. A way that didn’t involve himself. 

And for that, he needed Randall Tier. 

****

Hannibal heard the noise of something heavy in the dinning room while he was reading. As he approached the kitchen, there was more noise. He glanced outside and saw Will’s car there, which is why he went to the dinning room weaponless, right after the noises died out. He opened the doors with a bit of a flourish and saw Will there.

Will. 

And Randall Tier. 

He was clearly dead.

His mind and body flooded with adrenaline and need so strong that he turned away from Will and closed the door, trying to dispel the emotions before he could talk to him. He was almost sure that Will noticed this, but he couldn’t afford to let it seep into his performance now. He feigned calmness as he faced Will, and tried to keep his joy under wraps. 

“I guess this makes us even. I send someone to kill you, you send someone to kill me…” He didn’t seem upset. “Even Steven.” 

“Did you kill him with your hands?” Hannibal asked. 

Will didn’t answer, but looked down at his bloody knuckles. Then, not how he had tried to kill Hannibal, by strangling him. “It was…intimate.” 

A shiver ran down Hannibal’s spine- need, not fear- and he said, “It deserves intimacy.” 

“I’ve never felt as alive… as when I was killing him.” 

“Then you owe Randall Tier a debt. How will you repay him?” Hannibal crossed to the kitchen and ran a bowl of water as Will considered this. Will followed him, almost wandering, like a lost animal. 

Soon Hannibal had Will sitting in the reading room, his hands in a bowl of water and episome salts. He washed them gently and bandaged them just as sweetly. He touched as much as he could, but Will seemed blank as a paper. 

"Don't go inside, Will.” He warned. “You'll want to retreat. You'll want it, as the glint of the rail tempts us when we hear the approaching train.” He told him. “Stay with me.”

“I want to stay with you.” Will said, still staring straight ahead. Hannibal looked at him fondly. 

“And I with you.” He said. 

Will turned his gaze on Hannibal at last. His eyes seemed almost empty, but he closed them when he leaned forward, his lips parted, into Hannibal’s personal space, slow and steady… Hannibal closed his eyes as well, letting Will place the kiss on his lips. Then he deepened it, giving himself over to Will completely. 

Will’s hand escaped Hannibal’s and drifted into Hannibal’s hair lazily, leaving a wet streak through it. Hannibal shifted to better accommodate Will’s position, but Will broke the kiss. They looked at each other for a minute, close up, eyes half-lidded, then Will went towards Hannibal’s jacket and stripped it off as he moved to straddle Hannibal. 

Will was just as hard as Hannibal was. Hannibal hummed into the next kiss, feeling the whisper of Will’s fingers as they plucked each button from it’s hole, expertly and sensuously stripping Hannibal. Will buried his hands in Hannibal’s chest hair, taking fistfuls, and grated his hips against Hannibal’s hips all at once. Hannibal moved toward both touches, overcome with love at Will’s attention. 

But Hannibal insisted that his body remain still. The last time he had responded to Will, Will had stopped so abruptly and left Hannibal cold with emotional and physical need. He must not respond. 

Will pushed Hannibal down and he went, allowing Will to call the moves. He wanted nothing more than to succumb, and for Will to know that he had. Will grazed his skin with his nails and Hannibal let out an involuntary gasp. “You’re afraid.” Will whispered to his skin as he placed kisses at Hannibal’s neck. “You’re afraid I’m going to stop.” 

Hannibal didn’t answer, but the admission, even to himself, stung. Why did Will always hurt him so? 

He didn’t pull away, though. No matter the heartache Will inflicted, he wanted his touch so badly he could never resist. 

Will didn’t stop, either. He undid Hannibal’s pants and pulled them down, not as rough or cruel as he had before. He kissed down Hannibal’s chest and into the trail leading downward, his hands sliding down with him. Hannibal tensed for want of touching Will back and held his moans in as much as he could. 

At last Will reached his straining member and began to kiss from the base up to the tip, and Hannibal could resist no longer. Despite himself, his hands took gentle fistfuls of Will’s curly locks, and he sighed in relief when Will took his cock into his mouth. 

Hannibal’s eyes fluttered shut and he could do nothing but gasp and listen to the wet sounds of Will’s mouth on his dick. Will sucked and licked in intervals, tasting and massaging. He was obviously having a good time, and that was more than Hannibal could have asked for. He’d rarely met someone who enjoyed eating him up as much as he enjoyed tasting others. 

After some time, the beautiful, sloppy sounds of Will’s mouth on his cock playing like music to his ears, Hannibal had to at least warn him. “Will…” He whispered, and received a small questioning hum back. “I’ll come if you do that.” 

Will chuckled, but didn’t stop. Hannibal dug his hands into Will’s hair further as he redoubled his efforts, clearly trying to drive Hannibal over the edge with his ministrations. Hannibal allowed it, though, because Will seemed to want it- really want it. He threw his head back, his moans catching in his throat with the intensity of his orgasm. It barely registered that Will took Hannibal to the hilt and drank him down, but when Hannibal came too, Will was still breathing deep and fast from his nose and sucking gently. Hannibal twitched in his mouth, spent but eager for more nonetheless. Will sucked all the way up until Hannibal fell from his mouth, limp. A hole opened up inside of Hannibal at the sudden absence of his touch. 

Hannibal’s hands loosened their grip, allowing Will to sit up. Will undid his own belt and took himself out, hard as rock and dripping with need. Hannibal tried to sit up, but Will forced him down again with one knee. That simple action would have undone Hannibal if he hadn’t just cum. 

Will straddled Hannibal’s neck and shoved his cock in, guiding Hannibal’s head back with one hand and his cock in with the other. “All the way.” Will whispered. Hannibal obeyed, letting the tip of Will’s member rest in the back of his throat and relaxing himself so he could deep throat him. It would probably suffocate him for a few moments, but Will knew that a few moments would be all he needed. 

Balls deep in Hannibal’s mouth, Hannibal’s tongue stroking him hard from within, Will thrust forward. Hannibal choked but didn’t try and stop him. His hands were on Will’s hips and his eyes closed with need when Will said, “Take it until your eyes roll into the back of your head.” 

How could one man carry so much sensuality in his words? 

Indeed, it wasn’t long until Hannibal’s eyes were actually doing just that. Anytime they were open they were rolled back. Spit slid down his face as he slobbered around the thick organ in his mouth. Will was fucking him just a bit too hard for him to take comfortably. But he would do this, for Will. 

Hannibal had hoped that Will would pull out and fuck him properly right up until Will came. It wasn’t that Will’s orgasm was sudden, but Hannibal’s hope sprang eternal nonetheless. 

However, Will did built up quickly, though he was obviously loosing more and more control as he fucked Hannibal’s throat ruthlessly. It wasn’t five minutes before he spilled out and Hannibal choked, coughed, gagged, tried to fight Will (forgetting his promise to himself out of instinct to survive), then tried to relax and ride through it despite the amount of sperm spilling into his wind pipe. Will didn’t seem to notice until Hannibal almost bit down. Just as he mastered himself, he heard Will say, voice deep and sexual, “No, no, take it all.”

Both of Will’s hands went to pressure points on his chin, forcing his mouth open to help with the effort. Seed spilled from Hannibal’s nose and it was painful! Oh, so painful! But he would endure without complaint. For Will. 

Then, at last Will was backing off, pulling out, getting up. He let go of the two points and Hannibal rolled over, trying not to throw up as he dealt with the amount of things going wrong. Will ignored Hannibal’s plight completely.

Instead he sat back in a chair, his head thrown back as he allowed himself the full range of orgasm, relaxing completely.

Hannibal coughed and sputtered, then managed to sit up enough to take the box of tissues from the table next to his reading chair: or, as the case be, knock it onto the floor. Blowing his nose several times, he waited for the sting to lessen. He whipped the tears from his face as well. He wasn’t sure if that had been horrible or wonderful, but the after affect was firmly in the terrible category. 

As soon as he finished cleaning up, Will was at his side. Hannibal started to protest, to say that he just couldn’t continue right now, it was impossible, but then Will wrapped both arms around him and held Hannibal to his chest. 

Hannibal immediately snaked his arms around Will as well, breathing in his new scent greedily. A reward for his hard work, this comfort. Will made quieting sounds, and Hannibal was surprised to hear him mummer, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” Hannibal managed. “I’m yours to do as you please with.” 

Will tensed for a second, then relaxed again, his arms and body warm to Hannibal. 

“You really mean that, don’t you?” Will said, his face empty of expression, though Hannibal couldn’t see it. He stared at the wall for a second, then looked down at his bandaged hand. It had just started to sting again, the pain returning now that his orgasm was finished. 

“I do.” Hannibal replied quietly. 

“You want to talk?” Will asked. He was unsure if he wanted to or not. 

“I want to do whatever it is that you want to do, Will.” Hannibal told him. 

Oh. Helpful. Will rolled his eyes. But a thought did strike him. “I want to… run away.” 

“From what?” Hannibal asked, his hands now tracing patterns on the back of Will’s shirt. 

“From this.” Will said, gesturing to empty space, including everything. Hannibal missed the pressure until Will put his hand back. 

But hope rose up within Hannibal. “Shall we, Will? Shall we run away?” Hannibal asked. 

“I’m your patient, Dr. Lecter. You decide what’s best for me.” 

“Then… let us… run away.” 

“Where ever shall we go?” 

“Hm. We could start with France.” 

“Stuffy.” 

“I was thinking of ending in Florence.” Hannibal tried. 

“Oh, even worse.” Will groaned. 

“Where would you like to go?” 

“I don’t know- somewhere tropical. South America. Asia.” Will said. “Exotic, cheap-” He added. “So I can… I can get drunk. Fuck the hell out of you.” 

“I prefer you sober when you touch me.” 

Will sighed again. “I don’t even know what I would prefer.” 

“I’ll help you discover it.” Hannibal whispered quietly. “Pick a place, Will. I’ll take you there.” 

“I…” Will said, “can’t do that.” 

“It’s what you want.” Hannibal pointed out, unsure if Will actually cared what he wanted for himself or not. 

“What I would want is to bring my dogs.” Will said, half-joking. 

“I can arrange for that.” Hannibal said, equally as seriously. 

“That sounds incredible.” Will admitted. “We could pretend we met on the beach… instead of Jack’s office. That there was no such person as Abigail Hobbs.” Will wondered if Hannibal could see the tear escape his eyes. 

“We can act as if we just vacationed. And, that you were tying me to the bed for the first time.” 

Will actually laughed despite the second tear running down his face. “You remind me of this event so I can remember to forgive you.” He pointed out. 

“As I’ve forgiven you, Will.” Hannibal said. 

Venom poisoned every next word that Will uttered. “You started it.” 

Hannibal said nothing for a long moment, but looked at Will as he pulled away from Hannibal. He wanted to defend himself, but of course he couldn’t. After some time, Will said, “I…” 

He fell silent again, but Hannibal waited for him patiently. 

“I’m… not kidding.” 

Relief. So much relief at those words. Hannibal smiled and dropped his eyes, unable to look at Will. What would happen if he held that gaze? He might erupt into tears, or kiss Will, both of which might break the moment between them. Was Will really saying that he would run with Hannibal? 

“I thought you were.” He said quite bashfully. 

Will closed his eyes as if Hannibal’s attention gave him great pain. 

“Shall we run away together, Will?” Hannibal offered again. 

The longest pause proceeded Will’s answer. “We could hardly… do much else, at this point.” Will admitted. Ah, yes. Hannibal suddenly remembered that Will had killed someone, and there was still a body.

“What do you plan to do with the body?” Hannibal asked. 

“I’ll thank him. Like you said.”

“Hm.” 

“I’m interested to know …. will you…” A short, almost embarrassed, nearly shy, pause, then, “Will you watch?” 

“I would be delighted.” 

“I can’t decide if I’d rather surprise you or not.” Will said. 

“I would like to see you at your most intimate.” Hannibal told him. 

“I would like to see you at your most intimate.” Will countered. 

They looked at each other for a moment, all vulnerabilities and bleeding wounds.

“Then you shall.” Hannibal decided.


	13. Mastering the Art of French Cooking

Will and Beverly sat on either side of Hannibal as they were served. Alana was next to Beverly this time, and across from her was an empty seat: Jack hadn’t wanted to come to dinner. 

It was awkward, sitting here with Beverly and Alana, both of them knowing at least one of the recent sins he’d committed, or more. But Will knew this was a necessary step. 

“I’d hoped that Jack would come.” Hannibal said. “You saw him, Alana?” 

Alana, who had been taking a sip of beer, said “Yeah. I did.” She didn’t elaborate, and that was information enough. Will looked at his plate. 

“Did Hannibal tell you we found the body of Randall Tier?” Beverly asked him, testing the waters. 

“No.” Will said, too curtly to really invite further investigation. Hannibal sat down, finished the serving, and took a bite. Everyone began to eat at once. After Will swallowed, he said, “I think it would be better if I step away from that, Beverly.” He gestured briefly with his fork. “You understand.” 

“Of course.” She said, slightly apologetic. 

Alana chimed in. “I think that’s wise.” Will gave her an unconvincing half-smile. 

“Too bad, loosing both of you at once.” Beverly said. “But I get it. It’s hard work. Emotionally.” 

Alana gave Hannibal a curious look. “You’re not consulting anymore?” 

“This was my last case. I think stepping away from all of this would be best for both Will and myself. We’re too close, having both been suspects before, and-” 

“Some of us more seriously than others.” Will said, this time giving Hannibal a more convincing smile that still didn’t quite meet his eyes. 

“Some of us more seriously than others.” Hannibal repeated in agreement, smiling back at Will. “We must often question ourselves when pinning suspects of our own. It makes it difficult to continue.” 

“You two are a mystery.” Alana said between bites. Will didn’t ask her to elaborate, but Hannibal did, clearly wishing to address it. Will looked directly in Beverly’s eyes as she slowly put down her fork, uncomfortable with the knowledge Hannibal had given her- just enough to drive her opinion one way or another. “Your relationship doesn’t seem to know many boundaries.” Alana said, and Beverly looked away from Will, onto her plate, then to Hannibal, who wasn’t looking at her. “Patient and therapist. Friend and enemy.” Alana continued. 

“Crossing boundaries is different than violating them.” Hannibal said, shifting his gaze from Alana to Beverly, who looked back at Will. Will nodded and blinked at her once, very slightly, showing his agreement with what Hannibal was saying. 

“Boundaries will always be subject to negotiation.” Alana continued. She paused, then said, “It’s just hard to know where you are with each other.” 

“So much has happened.” Beverly added, jumping in eagerly. “Is there really a way to find what you had before all this?” 

“What we had has changed- doesn’t mean it’s any worse or better.” Will told them. “And we know where we are with each other. Shouldn’t that be enough?” 

Beverly smiled a little, looking between Will and Hannibal. “Better the devil you know?” She asked. Alana didn’t look as relaxed as Beverly did. 

“Exactly.” Hannibal agreed with a smile. 

“It probably helps if you like the devil, at least a little.” Will told her. 

Beverly chuckled, shook her head. “I won’t pretend to understand it.” 

“Neither will I.” Alana said more seriously, clearly not subject to the humor Beverly felt about the situation. 

But Will didn’t need them to understand it. Understanding would be dangerous here. Understanding would be catching him. All he needed was some distance, some time. And they’d bought time here tonight, Will thought, sipping his wine again. 

And Hannibal was buying distance. 

But not from Will. 

After dinner, Will and Hannibal walked the ladies out and cleared the table almost as one, moving around each other like performers in some elaborate dance. Hannibal thought of the way Will had gone about posing Randall and Will thought about his plans to leave with Hannibal and how little he knew of what Hannibal was doing. 

Neither of them broke the silence until the last dish was drying. Even then, they didn’t speak. Will approached and kissed Hannibal gently. He took him by the wrist and stepped back slowly. On the way to the bedroom they paused often to share a kiss, a touch… to undo a button. Then they were in bed, and Will was lubricating his fingers, Hannibal spread out before him like an offering. 

Will still said nothing as he put his fingers into Hannibal, but held his gaze. Hannibal looked away, the fire there too much to behold, like something holy. More than holy. Will prepared him quiet slowly, stroking his body with his free hand. An hour passed, maybe more, as he explored, watching Hannibal harden, then began to tense with pleasure, then begin to moan and stir on the sheets below him, then begin to rock, then strain and beg for more. 

He came undone before Will as he never had before. 

Once or twice he tried to touch Will, but he was brushed aside, and the third time, Will told him outright that he would tie him up if he did it again. 

Will didn’t forbid anything else, but Hannibal knew he needed permission to cum- could sense that. At last as he pled for salvation Will gave him one, slow nod, a depth in his eyes that Hannibal couldn’t fathom. He was allowed. Hannibal did little else but rock against Will’s fingers in him and he came apart, screaming for Will as he did. That single shot knocked him out cold, panting and twitching, then laying perfectly still as he drifted off immediately and accidentally. 

It was then that Will felt an itch beyond his control. He pressed into Hannibal without further preparation, and Hannibal’s complete lack of awareness or reaction filled him with need. He thrust wildly, watching Hannibal’s lifeless form move against the sheets with every lunge. In minutes he was cumming harder than he had since he was a teen. He pushed all the way in and let the pleasure possess him, and at last he collapsed against Hannibal’s warm body and drifted off, still inside. 

***  
Hannibal settled Abel Gideon at the table as his leg was cooking. It had been child’s play stealing him away from where he’d been kept. Hannibal hoped that Baltimore Hospital was more secure than that, though he didn’t much doubt his ability to take someone from there, either. 

“I’ll be just a minute.” Hannibal said, going to get to the roast, but he heard the door first. A second’s hesitation- Will was slightly early- and then Hannibal went to the door. The blood in his veins and the heart pounding in his chest demanded it. 

He opened it happily and took Will’s coat. He was so wonderfully dressed tonight- a white shirt with a suit jacket, slacks, very classic. No tie, but something more dressed up than Will would have chosen for himself. He was preening for Hannibal, how delightful. How arousing. “Hello, Will.” He greeted, but he didn’t try to conceal his emotions as much as he usually did. 

“Hello, Hannibal.” Will replied easily, and began to walk inside. Hannibal sped up to beat him to the oven and take the roast out. 

“Am I early?” Will asked. 

“Just a tad. But no matter.” Hannibal said, the last word slightly strained with effort as he removed the roast. 

Will followed him into the kitchen, but then stopped short when he saw Gideon. 

“Abel Gideon, you know Will Graham. And Will Graham, I would like you to once again meet…” Hannibal said, gesturing back to Gideon as he did. 

“Dinner.” Will finished for him, before Hannibal could provide a name.

Hannibal gave him a surprised smile, which Will weakly returned. Abel didn’t show his amusement at the comment, but clearly he’d mistaken Will for someone much less humorous until now. 

Will’s lip twisted upward. “Taking him from Baltimore State Hospital… won’t that ruin your set up?” 

“Actually, he wasn’t there. And the Ripper could hardly stay silent for long, were he alive. In light of our recent conversation with Beverly Katz, I feel it would be in our best interest to move on quickly.” Hannibal pulled out a chair for Will, all giddy fidgeting, and despite himself, Will couldn’t help but to think ‘cute.’

But this was happening. This was really happening. 

Will sat down. 

“Besides, Frederick’s belly is to have the contents of a man. I made sure of it.” Hannibal continued. “We won’t be immediately suspected.” Hannibal broke the clay.

Will didn’t ask how Hannibal had managed that, seeing as Chilton couldn’t eat meat due to the meat currently sitting on the other side of the table, but said, “This looks incredible.” 

“I love cooking with clay.” Hannibal told Will, pouring him a glass of wine. “Creates a more succulent dish and adds a little theatricality to dinner.” 

He used a pair of tongs to remove the pieces of clay away from the roast and lifted a piece of it onto a platter for Dr. Gideon, as if he were any old guest. How like Hannibal to ignore the elephant in the room. 

“Prometheus fashioned man out of clay and gave him fire.” Gideon said. 

“We come from clay, return to clay.” Hannibal replied, and Will could see he was happy that Gideon was playing along. 

“Ashes to ashes, and all the rest.” Gideon said. 

“I’ve never had anything done with clay.” Will interjected. Abel’s eyes watched them as Hannibal handed Will a bowl of cranberry sauce to serve himself from. Their eyes and fingers met at the same time, and there was a sudden charge in the air.

Ahhh. Okay. Thought Gideon. 

“Lovely that you two managed to find each other.” Gideon said as Hannibal served him up to Will and Will said a quiet thank you. “You two seem like you might really be good for each other.” He added slowly. 

Hannibal noted that his therapist had said almost the exact same thing in her own way, but this was for Will to know- not the talking pig at the end of the table. Hannibal sat across from Will and filed that little private joke in the part of his palace that contained Abigail: tell Will later. 

“Sort of sweet, actually. It seems I’m dying in piece.” Abel said. No one said anything as Will and Hannibal began eating, though after taking a bite Will closed his eyes with pleasure. Abel looked down at his food. “I hope you got that pun.” He continued, narrowing his eyes. 

“That would be pieces.” Will commented, then took a sip of his wine, intent on ignoring Gideon’s antics for the sole purpose of watching him squirm. But Hannibal smiled at Gideon’s word play before taking another bite. 

“Well, at least Dr. Lecter appreciates my humor.” 

“I’m sure he appreciates your taste much more.” Will commented. 

“Oh, I’m sure he does. Though probably not as much as he appreciates yours.” Abel said. He picked up his fork and knife and took a tentative bite. He was… delicious. “And honestly, I’m sure everyone here can appreciate my flavor.” 

“Yes, it’s delicious.” Will said, gracing Hannibal with a small smile. 

“Isn’t it?” Hannibal smiled back. 

“My compliments to the chef.” Gideon said. 

“I’m considering the right arm for feeding. Do you like snails?” He asked Will. 

“Usually, yes.” Will replied. He was finding it more and more amusing, Hannibal talking about Gideon as if he were fine with Hannibal and Will eating him. As if this was normal and Hannibal simply needed to go shopping. 

“What about you, Dr. Gideon?” Hannibal asked, and Will almost swallowed his wine wrong. 

Either Will’s close call or Hannibal’s question amused Gideon. “I’ve actually never had escargot, can you believe that?” 

“We must rectify that before your death, then.” Hannibal said. 

“Looking forward to it. As much as I could, anyway…” 

***

Will helped Hannibal clear up after dinner. For a few minutes he watched as Hannibal expertly amputated Gideon’s arm and hung it up, placing snails along it at intervals to feed. Then they went to his office. 

“I’ll toss the notes down for you. We should burn everything.” Hannibal said. He climbed the later and began throwing it down. 

“Won’t your patients need these once we’re gone?” 

“When we leave, the FBI will pore over my notes if I leave them intact. I’ll save my patients the scrutiny.” 

Will recognized something as it fell. He shifted position to catch it and opened the file. “These are your notes on me.” 

“That’s what they are.” Hannibal said, looking at Will briefly from above. 

Will walked very slowly to the fire, looking over his notes as he did, and then threw the whole file inside. 

After a while, Hannibal came down to help Will gather the papers and throw them in the now blazing fire. They talked as they went, about teacups, about their respective mind palaces, and what they would do and where they would be if they were caught. Then Hannibal saw Will was engaged with something on his desk. The curve of his neck and the curl of his hair was too much temptation. 

Hannibal leaned forward a bit to take in Will’s scent. Will didn’t notice this time, or perhaps he was getting used to the way that Hannibal acted around him. Their relationship wasn’t as professional now as it had been. 

The dogs. Oh, yes, Hannibal was already making arrangements there. The woods- he would miss that scent on Will, where they were going. Ah, the new aftershave.. a much more suitable scent for Will, though he would have to switch now that the scent of trees would be replaced with that of the beach. Hannibal reached around and held Will, burying his face into Will’s hair. Will stilled, but didn’t tense: he wanted Hannibal to touch him, then. “Don’t bring the aftershave. I’ll buy you something new.” Hannibal whispered to him. 

“I must be terrible at picking them.” Will said, looking up from whatever file had been of interested to him, his hand paused half-way in picking it up. 

“A vast improvement, but there’s room for something better still.” Hannibal said. 

“I defer to the knowledge your nose.” Will said. He put the file down and rested his hands on Hannibal’s, closing his eyes. 

“Something for sun and sea, I think.” Hannibal said. 

Will’s lips twitched into a smile, and then settled into a frown as he thought of Abigail. His feelings for Hannibal were a slap in the face to her, and her memory haunted Will every time he looked at Hannibal. But his other emotions would overtake him then, and he’d almost loose sight of the little bud of anger still blooming in his heart. 

He’d tried. He really had. He couldn’t kill Hannibal. He’d considered many times confessing everything to Jack, getting Hannibal arrested, but he’d killed someone as it was. How was he supposed to explain this? 

No. It would be Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane for him. That wasn’t exactly how he wanted to be with Hannibal. 

“What engages your mind just now, Will?” Hannibal asked, his lips brushing against Will’s neck. 

He was quick to lie. “Last night after you passed out, I fucked you.” 

“I’d noticed.” Hannibal remarked, practically purring. 

“You’re easier to deal with unconscious.” Will told him. Hannibal chuckled. “You talk less.” Will added, hoping to stir up some of the hurt he felt in Hannibal as well. 

But Hannibal only chuckled again. Then he said, “I have many a drug that will induce such an effect.” 

Will’s eyebrows rose in interest. His cock seemed to like that idea, too. “Then…. we should… finish up here.” 

Hannibal smiled and Will felt the gesture against his neck just before a kiss. 

***

As soon as the fire was fed, they left it blazing and went to the bedroom, Hannibal carrying a vial with him. Will didn’t ask what it was but hung his and Hannibal’s jackets and followed Hannibal. 

The door closed, Hannibal went to remove his shirt, but Will wordlessly rested his hand on both of Hannibal’s. Hannibal looked him in the eye for a split second, then left the tie half-done and went to the bed. He sat down. 

Will looked at him as Hannibal offered the vial, offered him his trust, but Will didn’t take it. “You should administer. I don’t think I’ve ever used one of those.” Will said simply. 

Hannibal nodded once. “Tie the tie.” He said. Will took off Hannibal’s tie and wrapped it around his arm where Hannibal had pushed up his sleeves. No hesitation here. Hannibal took it, and then laid down. The last thing he saw was Will looking lustfully down at him, but there was no power on earth strong enough to keep him awake after that. 

Will discarded the tie. He actually preferred Hannibal like this- no tie, slightly disheveled from the day. He knew he could make him look much juicier, though. 

With some effort, Will turned Hannibal over. This would be worth doing with a knife, rather than pulling Hannibal’s pants down. He took out his pocket knife and opened it, then shredded Hannibal’s pants with much more vigour than necessary. Hmmm… no, not from the back. 

Will grunted as he flipped Hannibal back again, his cock straining in his pants over how lifeless Hannibal was. But Will didn’t start right away. He grabbed Hannibal’s shirt and popped two of the buttons off with a quick tug. He straddled Hannibal, rubbing his bulge against him as he used one hand to destroy his perfectly crafted hair style. Then he stepped back and surveyed his prize. 

Hannibal was picturesque this way. 

Blood would be his lubricant. 

Will unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and pulled his boxers and pants down together, all the way off. He kept his shirt on. He wanted this to feel messy, chaotic, unprepared- like he’d dragged Hannibal here after knocking him out cold and now he was going to rape him. 

Will fingered Hannibal briefly and roughly to loosen him up just enough for Will to get inside without hurting himself. Then he positioned himself standing at the base of the bed with Hannibal’s legs opened wide and his hole exposed for the taking right on the edge of the bed. He closed his eyes to push in. Bliss, entering Hannibal dry like this. A little challenging, but good all the same. He opened his eyes when he was all the way inside and wondered why this was so incredibly-

He’d never wanted to rape anyone before Hannibal. Something about punishment. Something about hatred that felt like love, or love that felt like hatred. Or maybe, just maybe… something about holding his inner demons tight within himself, choking the life from them so he wouldn’t hurt anyone. 

But here he didn’t need to feel those feelings. He could let go of them and do whatever he wanted. Hannibal had given him the tools to do that. No talk of lines beforehand, no boundaries. He was allowed to violate Hannibal as Hannibal had violated him. 

A few violent, slow thrusts (Hannibal would be hurting when he woke up, even if he didn’t show it, and that fuelled Will even more) and Will could feel a warm slickness spreading. Blood was wetting Hannibal for him. He began to thrust more in earnest. As he fucked the pretty, tight hole in front of him, he let his eyes wander all over Hannibal’s roughed up state. 

They began at the entrance where Will watched his dick slide in and out, blood just visible over his cock with every inch of skin exposed from his pulling out just so he could thrust ever deeper. Then his eyes carried up to where Will had positioned him into nearly a full split. He was sure Hannibal could actually do a split, based on how easy it had been to move them into that position. His shoes were even still on and that made Will’s cock twitch needly inside of Hannibal. 

Then his eyes ran up Hannibal’s frame, his slightly exposed stomach, shirt bunched up with the effort of Will’s movements, and two buttons popped off. Hannibal’s chest… Will leaned over to take a fistful of his chest hair to pull on. Hannibal’s neck…. easily available to Will… so fragile… such delicate skin there at the base… His slack face, mouth slightly open, eyes closed, dead to the world, hair disheveled and messy. Will moaned. He was so incredibly close. 

“Yes… Hannibal… I’m gonna rape that hole… I’m gonna rape your tight hole, you slut! Yes!” Will came hard, his whole vision blurring for a few seconds. He closed his eyes as he came. 

He didn’t know when Hannibal would wake, but he didn’t feel quite finished either. He thought of fucking Hannibal’s throat so hard that his cum had squirted from his nose and of how Hannibal would feel waking up with the taste of blood and cum and ass in his mouth and knew he could go again rather quickly. This was turning him on like nothing else. But first….

Will took out his knife and opened it again. This time he shredded Hannibal’s clothes, not being too careful about if he was nicking skin while he was at it. Bleeding, sweaty, and helpless, yes. That’s how Will wanted him. He didn’t even step back to see this time. He simply dragged Hannibal’s body to the side of the bed so his head would loll off the end, and pushed his cock in. Hannibal’s body resisted more than when Hannibal had been conscious, but Will didn’t mind the barely-there scrape of teeth against his member as he thrust violently in and out. There was something raw about it that made it even better. 

He bottomed out and let Hannibal choke, his throat moving in waves around Will’s cock. Will was giddy with afterglow and need. He chuckled as he pushed in as deeply as possible and stroked the place where his cock tip was suffocating Hannibal. He thought of how raw Hannibal’s throat was going to be and moaned, unloading his seed then and there. His whole body convulsed and Will had to pull out quickly from the sensations. It was a bit too much. Some of his cum still seeped out of Hannibal’s nose, so he was satisfied enough. 

A few minutes passed, Will crumpled at the base of the bed panting, then he thought of something else. 

What if…

What if Hannibal woke up to something rather large stuffed in his ass? Will sniggered and slowly got to his feet. He didn’t put on his pants but he looked around the room and thought about what would be just too large to be anywhere near comfortable. There were plenty of what Will assumed were souvenirs around the room, art pieces and such, but they were mostly small. He wanted large. 

Inspiration struck and he went to the kitchen and got a variety of things from he drawer. He wondered very briefly if Gideon had heard anything, tucked away in the basement, but probably not. After all it was soundproof, he was sure. 

Will went back to the bedroom and put the pile of equipment on the bed. He took a second to savour the view, but decided against a picture until he was done. He started with the pepper mill, it being the largest. It took a little effort, but it was fine. Next was the corkscrew, and Will really considered putting it in sharp end first. He chose not to, instead shoving the wooden handle in on one side with the metal dangerously close to Hannibal’s inner thigh. Hm, they were sliding out, though. 

Will went into the drawer and got a few silk ties. Over the next thirty minutes, he shoved in a spatula handle, one handle of the nutcracker, and a skimmer handle. He tied them all up and used the remaining ties to make a sort of harness that wrapped around Hannibal’s legs and stomach, securing them inside. 

He still had an oven mitt- it was never meant for the ass. He shoved it into Hannibal’s mouth. Then he surveyed his work and pulled Hannibal down a bit on the bed so his head was in view for the picture, not resting off the side of the bed. He made sure the corkscrew was stabbing Hannibal just enough to draw some blood, then moved a chair over to stand on so he could grab some candids. 

He took ten or so pictures. Then he climbed down and, though he knew he’d regret it and it would hurt him to do it, he grabbed his cock. He was heavy with need again. He rested on his knees on the bed and began to stroke himself, his cock hanging over Hannibal’s thick chest hair. It was a little too much at this point. Will grit his teeth as he worked and his moans were sharp with pain. His release didn’t feel that great, but now at least there was going to be cum drying there, too, when Hannibal woke up, and he knew he was really done. 

Driving home was out of the question for tonight, though. He’d fed the dogs so… he could go home in the morning. Skip his first class. He laid down in the bed sideways, undressed but with the blankets covering him, and went to sleep.


	14. Coq Napoléon

Hannibal woke up slowly at first, groggy from the drug use. His mouth was cotton dry, which was normal. But as he came to, he realized he couldn’t close it either, and he brought one hand up to take out… what was this? An oven mitt? 

He was in pain, quite a lot of it, and not just in his holes. Amused, he wondered what Will had come up with while he was sleeping. Cum in his mouth and nose, for sure. He tried to sit up and felt stabbing pain in this thigh and ass. 

Hannibal reached down and surveyed the damage. Okay, something was in there. He sat up carefully to see and could make out that several things were tied so they’d stay in his ass. He found a knot and started to untie it. After about ten minutes he could take the load of things out. Then he sat up. 

Cuts all over his body, cum drying in his nose and already dry on his chest. The stabbing thigh pain from a corkscrew. He supposed he should just be thankful Will hadn’t shoved it in point first, along with half a dozen knives. He stood up gingerly and blew his nose several times, and that was when he first became aware that Will was sleeping in his bed, a look of the utmost innocence on his precious face. 

Duality like no other. 

Hannibal chuckled slightly, but it hurt, so he stopped. Shower. He needed a shower like… well, not like never before. Perhaps rarely before. 

When he got out he treated his wounds carefully if he could reach them, but especially his ass. It was on fire with pain, but Hannibal understood. He was allowing this. This was a part of the darkness he was cultivating within Will.

He laid down nude next to Will and stroked his hair. Will took a deep, slow breath, waking up, and made a little noise to acknowledge Hannibal. He didn’t open his eyes. Then he stretched a bit. Finally, obviously remembering the night before, he opened his eyes and grinned mischievously at Hannibal. He said nothing but let his eyes stray downwards. 

“You’re been quite naughty, Will.” Hannibal said playfully. 

“Really that’s your fault.” Will replied. 

Hannibal’s expression closed slightly. “Are you so inclined to blame me?” 

“You offered up your unconscious body with no boundaries, Hannibal. Are you inclined to blame me?” Will asked a little aggressively. 

“It was your fantasy that led to this.” 

“Oh you just want me to take some responsibility, is that it?” 

“I want you to understand yourself better, Will.” 

“I’ve never had fantasies like this before.” Will said quite honestly. “That’s what I understand. If you don’t like the way I treat you, maybe set some boundaries. Or did you forget I often want to kill you?” 

Will started to get up, but Hannibal caged him with his body. “I believe you might be misinterpreting what I’m saying, perhaps even purposefully.” 

“No, not purposefully.” 

“These acts are part of the darkness you refuse to accept.” Hannibal told him. 

Will paused for a second, then gave Hannibal an incredulous look. “Are you proud of me?” 

Hannibal’s smile returned. Will half-laughed and half scoffed. Hannibal said, “This is what I want for you, Will.” 

“You seem awfully amused that I would fantasize about killing you.” Will said. 

“How do I act, in your fantasies?” Hannibal wondered aloud. 

“Just like this.” Will said. “Like… you’re winning. Like you’re happy that at least I’m killing. Flattered that I chose to kill you, specifically.” 

“How realistic.” Hannibal moved his hand so Will could easily get out of the bed, but all Will did was reach up and pull Hannibal into him. There was a moment of sweet silence. 

Then Will said, “I have to go feed my dogs.” 

“Ah.” Hannibal replied, “I’m afraid that won’t be necessary, as I’ve had them removed. I suppose it was a good night for staying over.” 

Will let go and stared at Hannibal when he sat up. For one dreadful moment, Hannibal thought Will was going to scream, perhaps tell him he wasn’t serious and what was Hannibal thinking? Then Will said, “Oh,” in realization. And he sat up and went into the bathroom. “Well, a shower at least.” He called back to Hannibal. 

As soon as he was sure Will was in the shower, Hannibal collapsed prone on the bed. The relief of knowing Will had been totally serious was much more than the relief of pulling a pepper grinder out of a used asshole, for some reason. Hannibal wasn’t sure even now how he would have handled it if Will had lashed out or given some sign that he wasn’t going with them. He breathed deeply for a few seconds, then got up to dress. 

It was good that all of his suits would cover what Will had done, though there was no fixing the burning pain all over his body. At least, though, it was his body. Not his heart. 

“When is your class, Will?” 

“I’m playing hooky.” Came the answer from over the running water. Hannibal grinned. He forwent anything that would clothe him more for work, such as a vest or tie, and went to the kitchen directly.

He took a few things out of the refrigerator and went upstairs, where he knocked twice very gently on Abigail’s door, then let himself in. “Good morning.” He said to Abigail, quietly. 

“Did Will leave?” She asked. 

“He’s not going into work today, apparently. I’m sorry to say this means breakfast will be meagre.” 

She smiled at him and then at the tray of a banana, a hard boiled egg, some oats with berries inside, and some cold cuts of salmon. “It looks good to me.” 

“Will is dinning with me.” Hannibal said. 

“Oh, okay. NOW I’m jealous.” Abigail whispered. They grinned at each other as Hannibal closed the door, Hannibal happy to see that her fear of him hadn’t tapered her humor. 

Now to the basement. 

“A bit late, isn’t it, Dr. Lecter?” Abel asked blearily as Hannibal came in. “I thought at least as a guest of honor I’d be allowed to sleep upstairs.” 

“I’m afraid the rooms are occupied.” Hannibal said cheerfully. By my family, he didn’t add. 

“Hm, I thought for sure if Will Graham spent the night he would be in the room with you.” 

Hannibal didn’t answer, but finished putting on his murder suit. “You’re going under now, Dr. Gideon.” 

“I expected as much.” 

When Hannibal returned to the kitchen he was carrying an amputated leg. A few minutes after he began preparation on breakfast, Will came out in one of Hannibal’s sweaters and a pair of slacks. He looked positively cozy. Hannibal gave him a very obvious once-over. “The paper?” He asked. 

Will snickered and went to the front door. It felt decidedly domestic to get the paper from the front door for Hannibal and go back into the kitchen to take a chair. “You want me to read it to you, too, darling?” He asked. 

“Please.” Hannibal said unironically. 

Will sighed and unrolled it. Then he read the headline. “Verger Estate to Morgan Verger.” 

Hannibal looked up at him, smiling. Will continued. 

“Mason Verger, the last heir to the Verger Estate and famous slaughterhouses all over the world that passed away last Saturday afternoon, appears now to have been succeeded by Morgan Verger. Reports from last week show that Mason Verger was the victim of a rare eel kept as an exotic pet at his estate. Witnesses included a maid on staff and Margo Verger, the sister of Mason Verger. The maid, who does not wish to be named, explained to police that Mr. Verger took a wrong step and broke the glass to the tank, falling inside. The tank had been on the floor of the room, presumably as an aesthetic design. Ms. Holofernes, known lover to Margo Verger, has now come forward and claims to be pregnant with the heir to the Verger Estate, which must be male-

-fucking ridiculous,” Will interjected, then continued on, “which must be male in accordance with the will of Molson Verger, and whom she refers to as ‘Morgan.’ As the estate is not set to pass until assets can be counted, there is plenty of time for the pregnancy to come to the third term. The baby has been DNA tested and already found to be male and the direct descendant of Mason Verger. While police are still investigating this matter, Ms. Verger and Ms. Holofernes both told the press and police that Mason Verger ‘had no heir and gave a sample of his sperm for insemination so the Verger line could live on.’ It appears now that Morgan Verger will inherit the estate at his birth.” 

Will paused, said, “Clearly they murdered him,” then read, “Piers Fires Staff Over Missing Medications.” 

Here Will gave another pause and Hannibal interrupted. “Have you been following the Verger case?” 

Will looked up. “No, why?” 

“I agree with you about the murder.” Hannibal said. “The police of course have found no evidence.” 

“Sounds like you.” Will replied. Hannibal went back to his preparations. 

“I’m at a loss what to do for pepper.” 

Will chuckled as he put down the paper. “It’s not like I wouldn’t eat that ass so… might as well.” 

Hannibal sighed and went to retrieve the pepper from the other room. 

“How’s Gideon?” Will asked when Hannibal came back, though clearly just making conversation. 

“Hardly functioning now. The dogs have been moved, as I thought it best we move on as well.” 

“Stage the body?” Will asked. 

Hannibal nodded. “In the office, I think. I planned snails for dinner tonight. After that, we depart. If there’s anything you need from the house, it’s time to get it now.” 

“Guess I’ll go to work, then, Might give them a head’s up if I just don’t show up.” Will checked the time. 

“With that thought, I agree. If you leave after breakfast, you’ll have time to go home first. That will save you a drive tonight.” 

Hannibal brought two dishes to the table and Will stood to grab the glasses of orange juice he had poured out. He went to the table and sat down. He was half-way through his breakfast when he looked up and said, “Margo Verger.” Hannibal looked at him. “She was your patient. I saw her file when we burned everything.” 

Hannibal didn’t reply, but there was a glint in his eyes as he took his next bite. 

___

Will found it difficult to concentrate that day. He’d returned home just to find an empty house, as Hannibal had said. He took only three things- a photograph of him and his dad fishing, a stuffed animal he’d had since he was so small that he couldn’t bare to leave it now, and the first fly he’d hand made that had actually caught him a fish. 

Then he lingered in the doorway for a minute, thinking. He took out his phone and looked through the photos he’d taken of Hannibal the night before and, just for kicks, sent him one. The pictures were helping, thankfully. The draw, no, the necessity, to be in Hannibal’s orbit, was steadily calling out to him when he looked at them. 

Still.

He considered what he was leaving. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought about it before, but the feeling was raw within him now. He closed the door and went to the car to get inside. The dogs were already gone, right? It was too late for thoughts of Abigail’s ghost and what else he’d be giving up. His life here was over. 

A hundred miles away, Hannibal Lecter checked his phone between patients and saw a filthy picture of himself. He smiled. 

Will went to class and taught, but he felt distant from everyone and everything. No one seemed to notice. He didn’t see Beverly or Alana, and they were the only people who knew him well recognize his lack of attention. Jack was still on leave, of course.

Will was fine with all of that. 

Between classes he sent Hannibal more pictures. Each one got a response quite like Hannibal to give. ‘wonderful lighting” “fantastic angle on this one.” No calls, like they usually would. 

Hannibal took his lunch with Abigail in a rushed state. He’d only two hours, so as not to break his routine or cause suspicion, and he needed to pack. Not much was going with them, but they needed two days clothing and Hannibal needed to stage the body, so he set everything up except Abel Gideon. He would wait for Will for this task alone. 

Abigail helped with the antlers, then asked if he was sure that she wouldn’t need her Lithuanian books. “I’ll buy you new ones.” Hannibal reassured her, brushing her cheek. “Now go upstairs and wait for Will. I’ll call for you when it’s time.” 

She seemed afraid as she headed up, like she didn’t quite trust him. But all was going according to plan. There was no reason for her to fear. 

Hannibal checked his watch more often than usual. He was composing a letter to Alana, and he finished just before he needed to. “What are you doing?” He asked to the still air. 

“Reading.” Was Abigail’s nervous answer. 

When it was time for Will’s appointment, Hannibal opened the door and Will was there. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be at the house.” He said. 

“No, but we should hurry. Our flight will be leaving in a few short hours.” 

“Are you sure we can take a plane?” Will said, following Hannibal over to the house.

“Yes.” Hannibal said confidently, and Will didn’t argue any further. “We have time for dinner.” He said. 

It was, however, a short affair. Gideon ate but a few snails for his last meals, and was otherwise quiet, still groggy from the drugs and the massive stress he must be under. Will couldn’t find himself caring. 

He was also quiet as he ate, asking only one thing: “Did you like my photos?” 

“Of course.” Hannibal replied easily. “We shall take many more.” He promised. 

They took Gideon from the house. He was barely conscious as they set him down amongst the antlers. Will paused to look at them, spread out in a circular motion in the middle of the floor, pointing to Gideon in the center. News articles detailing the Ripper’s murders, Will’s suspicion, Frederick’s death, were all over the floor, artfully placed under the antlers. 

“I would like it if you struck the killing blow.” Hannibal told him, handing him one of the many implements he would use to impale Gideon. 

Will took it. “The wound man?” 

“Yes.” Hannibal said. “I will do the rest. The first blow is your message to Beverly- you and I are now one.” 

“I wish you wouldn’t have done the antlers, Hannibal. This isn’t easy for me.” Will said, his expression and voice raw. 

“I know.” Hannibal looked up and nodded at Abigail. 

She started toward the ladder, hesitant, and he encouraged her with a second nod. Will was busy gearing up for the blow. Abigail, half-way down the ladder, turned when she heard the sickening squish of blood and flesh giving way to metal. Then she hurried down the ladder and stood awkwardly at the bottom. 

Will straightened up, looked at Hannibal. Hannibal smiled at him. “This is all I ever wanted for you, Will.” He said in response to the deep lust in Will’s eyes. “For all of us.” Hannibal turned his attention on Abigail. Will looked around at what had caught Hannibal’s eyes with such a soft light in the middle of such a terrible deed, and froze. 

Abigail just stood, saying nothing. Will blinked. “I… I didn’t know what to do, so… I just…” her eyes darted to Hannibal, and Will turned on him as well, tears evident in his eyes. 

“This… you….” Was all he could say, and his voice was low, dangerous. 

“The teacup has come together. A place has been made for Abigail in your world.” Hannibal said simply. Will turned his whole body towards Hannibal slowly. 

There was one brief, hopeful moment where it seemed Will had forgiven Hannibal. Then- 

Abigail backed up in fear as Will pounced on Hannibal, knocking him to the floor. The attack seemed unexpected to Hannibal as well, who went down without a fight. He was certainly fighting a moment later, though. 

Will threw two punches that connected, and one into the office floor. Abigail put her hands over her mouth, backed into the curtains. She couldn’t go back any further. 

Will didn’t seem to be able to feel pain. His furry was incredible. As soon as Hannibal wiggled free of him, Will was lifting the chair to throw it at Hannibal, who dodged again. It hit the wall with a sound just too loud for Abigail. She shrieked slightly. What should she do? What should she do? 

“Stop! Stop!” 

To her surprise, that worked. Hannibal, who had picked up a literal sword from the ground to defend himself with, and Will, who had clearly been ready to impale himself if it meant getting to Hannibal, both stopped and looked at her. 

Will dropped from his defensive position when he saw her tears. Slowly he went for her, but Hannibal was faster. Sword on the table, swift footsteps to her side, arms around her into an embrace as she cried. Will hesitated again, then closed the distance and, over Hannibal’s body, draped himself into a hug. 

They stood there for a moment as Abigail regained herself. Quietly, she said, “Please don’t fight.” 

“Shhh, shhh, shhhh.” Hannibal cooed comfortingly. 

Will said, “I’m sorry, Abigail. I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“Can we go?” She asked. “Can we just go?” 

“Yes. Yeah, we… we can go.” Will said. He let go. 

Hannibal also removed himself from the hug, but then he picked up his sword. “In a few moments, Abigail. This needs to be finished. Come here.” 

Will shielded her from moving forward. She looked at him, and Will could see the distress in her eyes. Yet… was there another way, than to take her with them? 

“I won’t hurt her.” Hannibal told him. 

A long pause- Will measuring Hannibal with his eyes. Then he let Abigail go forward. Hannibal took her into a sort of embrace, the sword in her hand. She felt it push forward, Hannibal moving her. “Do you feel it?” 

Abigail nodded. 

And so it went. Together, Hannibal showing her, teaching her, they used their combined strength to skewer Gideon until the wound man was there amongst the antlers.

They all stood back and surveyed the scene, Will’s heart pounding in his chest, afraid to talk to Abigail. 

“I like it.” Abigail said suddenly. 

Hannibal smiled and put his arm around Abigail’s waist. She looked up at Will, who felt a ghost of a smile break through his worry. He put his arm around her waist, too. 

“I’m still angry with you.” He said, not looking at Hannibal, but at the dead body. 

“But you like it, right?” Abigail said. 

Will sighed. “Yes.” He said. “It’s beautiful.” for a moment, he reflected on that. On his own darkness. Then he felt Hannibal’s arm move and saw him step forward. “Abigail, go change. Leave your dirty clothes here. Will, your bag is there.” And he began to strip down as Abigail climbed the ladder. Will stood for a few seconds and then, realizing there was no going back in any case, but that he didn’t really want to except for to help Abigail better, he changed. 

Hannibal pulled down his hat against the glaring sun. Secretly, he was glowering. But he couldn’t bring himself to hate Will for this, even if it was punishment. Possibly it… was…. punishment. 

Will was a little bit up in the river with Abigail, far enough away that Hannibal couldn’t hear them, and wouldn’t be so easily hit with their flies as they cast, but not so far that he didn’t see the wide smiles on their faces as they laughed together. They were turned half towards Hannibal and were trying to tie the lure on as Hannibal swatted mosquitos spitefully in the blazing sun. 

Hm. 

Maybe Beverly would never stop looking. 

Maybe the river was cold and the mosquitos were hell. 

Maybe Abigail would daily feel a glimmer of fear and doubt around him. 

Still, this view was well worth it. Will was his. And Abigail was his. Hannibal waded closer in the water and stood beside them, wet and miserable. Will tried to hide his smile at Hannibal’s misfortune in fatherly advice toward Abigail. 

“Last thing before casting a line: name the bait on your hook after somebody you cherished.” 

“To say goodbye?” Abigail asked. 

“If the person you name it after cherished you, as the superstition goes, you will catch the fish.” Will replied, handing the small box of lures to Hannibal, who took it and thought- Misha. 

“Oh.” Abigail said. 

“Well, I guess it’s not really to say goodbye. I don’t know. I named one after you, and here you are.” Will said with a sad smile. A smile Hannibal hadn’t seen in a while- they were brighter and freer these days. 

Abigail studied him. “Did you catch the fish?” 

Will laughed more casually. “No. The fish was Hannibal.” Hannibal and Abigail both smiled at him and he laughed again, somewhat nervously. 

Then Abigail said confidently, “I knew it. You caught the fish.” Will put one hand around Abigail’s waist, and Hannibal put his around Will’s. “It’s because I cherish you.” She said, and she cast the line.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for Eat the Rude Big Bang! Art by heavymetalhannigram! [Header art and two SPOILER art pieces from the last chapter!](https://heavymetalhannigram.tumblr.com/tagged/eattherudebigbang). 
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